Just Living

Just a moment... Just a night... A regular night but I'm nostalgic for it already. Shrimp curry mostly gone on the stove top, the rest of it comfortably settled into two little voracious bellies (and one decent sized one), filling the house with the scent of ginger, lime, garlic, making me fuller even after the dishes are done. Joni Mitchell's "Blue" on loop, the fire finally, finally roaring after days of tinkering and toiling, swearing and nearly crying because it just wouldn't get warm in here. Tessa writing in her journal unfamiliar words she's finding in "Charlotte's Web", Thatcher sniffling in a wing back arm chair, feet dangling looking through his books from back to front. Jason on his way home from a different world, weary and worn from a life I know little to nothing about. Percy scratching to come in, go out and tease the neighbor dogs with her freedom, come in again satisfied. Leftover Halloween candy brownies waiting to be devoured, resting on the counter. The tree lit, Christmas covering every wall of the house. Stockings hanging in the window, greenery sprays decorating the interior doors, felt stars hanging in the window, my sewing machine out on the floor along with unwrapped presents, paper, ribbon.... The house is a mess in exception for this night. The dogs sound chaotic every moment besides this one where their deep barks and the kids sudden cries of frustration and Joni's "California" are harmonizing.
Life is life. It is richer with every complicated day. With the long hours and the quick holidays. The preparing, preparing, preparing... for tomorrow. This life we're living... we're living.

Alone Time

I'm at the kitchen table, a mere two feet away from Thatcher who's dangling his feet off the edge of the kitchen island munching on a piece of toast he just venomously refused. He's having some requested alone time. I'm not to look at him or talk to him unless I'm spoken to first. This is of course all well and good. I figure I'll make the best of it and tip tap type away.
I think I've actually recieved my own quota of alone time lately. Tessa's in school five full days a week now and Thatcher is gone just two mornings to his picture perfect one room school house. Everyone is asking what I'm going to do with all this free time! And really 6 hours is pretty incredible for me. Grocery shopping is a leisurely hour and a half stroll. I've read the New York Times front to back on more than one occassion and am consuming more caffiene at the nice bright bagel shop in the middle of Brattleboro than anyone should dare. I've shopped, splurged, started my Christmas hoarding... and now? I'm done. It's been what three weeks? 6 entire mornings to myself and I've hit existensial crisis mode. Who am I? Is this really what my life is about outside of kids?
To top it all off I've just bought my first smart phone. I'm connected to this evil internet everywhere I go now. It's horrible. I'm like a herion addict who decided rather than kick smack she's gonna carry around a kilo in her pocket.  I should not be allowed to consume this much nonsense, no one should. It makes me feel dirty and bloated and honestly like a zombie all the time. On the brighter side my internet addiction is making my alcohol consumption look better.
So besides the shopping and the internet dripping into my veins my life looks like a postcard. It's all coffee cups and newspaper fingerprints. That is when I don't have the kids with me. When I have them with me it's more like wine glasses and excrement. Kidding! Maybe it's not entirely pathetic that they give my life all it's meaning right now but it does give me a good kick in the ass to get a move on with the other parts. I mean like the whole "me" thing. Like I'm a real live grown woman who's not contributing a friggin lick to society. Like perhaps learning a real life skill? Maybe I'll go be a carpenter, hardy har har. Something though really not just to fill the overrated alone time with  but to fill myself with something I can be proud of. Something other than these perfect children who are going to be grown up in a day. Or maybe two.

What?

And so life gets complicated... we complicate life or it complicates us... I haven't yet figured it out. What I do know is that I sit in a beautiful house, next to my sleeping dog, with my husband upstairs feeling vanquished or resentful or lonely getting our two children to sleep, one who is clingier than she's ever been before and teenage whiney at the age of 6 and the other, 3 1/2 and still struggling to speak and frustrated with the world for not getting it. I am sitting here... typing. Because I haven't in a really long time. I haven't written anything down anywhere of any signifigance, have barely said as much either.
I don't know which way is up or if life is linear at this point. I'm not sure why our house is for sale that nearly pays for itself or why we're living here in the first place. I'm not sure where in the hell we really want to go, what we really want to do, who we really want to be.
I heard this thing on the radio a few weeks ago. This guy was talking about "healthy families" and how "healthy families" should have a mission statement. Hmmm. I thought. That's intriguing. And I'm still thinking what that could possibly mean for us. I want our kids to grow up strong and brave and proud of themselves. I want them to be ready for life. And then I think and I nearly say "in a way that I'm completely not". And what the hell does that mean. I want to be less vague. I want to teach them actual possibility without someone else's idea of possibility intruding.
And then I heard something else.... A teacher asked a student to try to prove that they were alive without using another person to prove it. So I'm left wondering how... and why?

Thatcher Espen

Thatcher Espen. You are so truly you. So strong and beautiful and dreamy. You have changed my world so completely. Even after your sister taught us how to truly love you came and taught us more. When I ask you "do you know how wonderful you are?"  you actually take a moment to consider the question, look me straight in the eyes and say "me? yeah?". It's utter perfection. Just like when you hug me and curl into me or grab my cheeks for a straight on kiss...or say you miss Daddy when he's left just a few minutes before... or talk about your uncles out of the blue... or wave to a little baby in the grocery store and say "hi friend!". It's coming from this place in you that's just so full of love. You seem to be bursting with happiness sometimes and it takes me by surprise how wise you already are. Even in your sadness and anger you only stomp away for a minute before running back into my arms or calling me from your cross legged seat behind a door somewhere.

Today is one of those spring days where the rain is making everything greener by the minute. You helped me rake in the yard and clean the chicken coop. You held those chicks in your hand so gently and called each one friend. You took off your clothes as you always do and ran around laughing and playing some naked super hero game. And then when you'd fully exhausted yourself you asked for num nums and a happy nappy. You still refuse to sit in your own seat but that's ok, I realize more and more everyday how big you're getting and how soon you won't fit on my lap. I don't look forward to the days you decide you can do without happy nappy time. I love the moments you grab your books and cuddle right into my arm and yawn. You always fall asleep staring at a page of the book, studying it. Today I listened close as your breath got more even as the rain came down harder and harder on the roof. We were in my bed and I could see out to the field just over the top of your head. The feathery wisps of your white blonde hair blended in with the field and the sky. I tried to keep my eyes open to remember it forever.

What Day is It?

What a winter. Drifting and white, deep and insular. The weeks have scattered like crumbs. I can remember bits and pieces but not the whole more than a mood. We were just so homey this year. The season has seemed so long and it's still not over. The last storm has refreshed the blanketed field and as I type, with children warm in the tub, it's beginning to flurry again. I don't even pay attention to the forecasts anymore. It's expected to be cold, sometimes bitterly, sometimes not. We go out when it's not biting, we stay in when it's not worth it.
Tessa has fallen into the habit of school days and Thatcher into the rythm of a single child during her absence. We stay put except for grocery trips, our weekly voyage to the outside world. I'm becoming a hermit of a mother and I feel myself burrowing deeper and deeper. Luckily, the world has come to us and we've had visitors most weekends. After months of endless sickness we were able to communicate in person without being communicable with our germs. Ugh. The memory just brings the scent of vomit to the air. Shiver.

We've tested science experiment after art project after scone recipe. Again and again. The kids have climbed and launched themselves off of every precipice in the house. The couch has little to no spring left and I have promised myself to never, ever buy a grey monochrome sofa again. Oh well, it's covered in sleeping bags and pillows. Now it's "long john trail" and they're penguins dashing down on their bellies.
Tessa is clearly the leader and Thatcher doesn't mind. His vocabulary is expanding to include "Tessa, no! Me jumpy!"  My favorite is "happy bunny! hoppy bunny!"  It's great. Tessa has found her voice apparently at school too. The other day I picked her up and she was singing, at the top of her lungs, from the steps of the school with the other sixty something kids lined up for the bus, a song she learned on the bus ride to sledding day at Stratton Rec.,"this girl is on FIRE!!!!" She's walking on FIRE!!!" The kids were entertained, the teachers laughing hysterically. I didn't know what to do. It was amazing and awesome and nothing I would've ever done in my entire life. It was a moment when I realized that she would always be braver than I could imagine and that for her it didn't even mean anything about being brave or strong or confident. It just meant she was happy and she was just fine with showing it.

Of course, there's been days that were too secluded. Days I spent every other 10 minutes checking things out on the computer. Obsessing over blogs and people's lives I've never even met. Comparing my house, my parenting decisions, my style. Wondering when I'm going to leave the house and be a part of the world again. Have a conversation with someone without kids running circles screaming. Be outside for more than 1/2 hour at a time. Plan a trip and really believe it'll happen. I just have to work on one thing at a time. At this point it's meditating on spring, on warmth, on sunshine, on light. It's finding a moment to tip tap my thoughts down.

Just Here...

Frigid days on lockdown. Cabin fever set in weeks ago and plans to escape have been foiled time and again by these utterly obnoxious bugs plaguing our bellies.  Thatcher has seen the worst of it, going on nearly two weeks of night time pukes and day time general discomfort. I've been afraid to even think of going to the doctor's office. Ugh. The zillions of bacteria covering every square inch of that place makes me cringe. I've succumbed out of desperation. My only real concern is that he's getting dehydrated which apparently is quite dangerous.
Meanwhile Tessa's been managing to stay mostly healthy and still have 3 day school weeks. Today we're all set for a play date but I can tell she misses her routine. I love living in a tiny village sometimes even though we feign boredom and restless life syndrome we recognize some super sweet perks. On Tuesdays the school buses the younger grades to Stratton Rec for snowshoeing, ice skating and sledding followed by hot chocolate while the older kids go skiing. I love that they bring them outside often three times a day for long periods and that younger and older kids are paired together for reading and writing. I love that she has the same teacher for two years in a row, that the school only has 69 kids in it and that it's a 5 minute walk through the woods to get there. I love that when I pick her up the teachers are often sledding down the hill with the kids and when she leaves with me kids in sixth grade are yelling "bye Tessa!".  I love that she's learning to read and write and that she made up her own menu all by herself for her bistro yesterday. The coffee was super cheap and delicious!
So another long day inside, making art, cleaning, rearranging, cooking, overall being a very domestic mama. It might feel small and secluded sometimes but then again would I really want it any other way? I'm thinking of making a fire, sipping some coffee and counting my blessings. Maybe I'll catch some vitamin D through the window. Who knows? The possibilites are endless...