Humanity

current mood: crackhead

Sitting in the Car- UnwifedMotherExpletivei’m sitting in my living room currently with three kids around me, all plugged into various screens, even the six year old. and i am typing, while watching Airplane.  I had them all in it with me, for about six minutes.

There are 100 things i love about this movie.

and i’m sitting on the dog’s bed*, so he is lying next to me licking my foot until i scream and get the hell out of his space.

*dog’s bed being a completely original way of saying beanbag chair, intended for humans.

God Bless Kareem Abdul-Jabar. I mean, Roger Murdock.

and then, Ethel Merman.

I’m smitten with the casual cruelty and egalitarian roasting. no one is safe. and yet, it manages to not be aggressive. how does it do that? and, if i weren’t a white girl from the country, would i still think this? i mean, its certainly offensive. but is it?

part of what made me write today was a thought that flashed through my brain while watching Elaine dance to Staying Alive. ‘I wish i was taller’.

Ok now. So, I am 45 years old. My last growth spurt was a while ago. I don’t need to be anything other than I am. ever. right?

As part of the crackhead mood i”ve been in for the past week, I’ve lost all my ground. And, a lovely friend (@hannahmarcotti) said it today, in terms of my doubt, that doubt is really an inability to be present.

and its doubt that is making me lose my ground. doubt in my own instincts, not knowing the difference between fears based on baggage and fears based on intuition, just the wild uncertainty of everything.

Gobacken Sidonna.

I’m laughing out loud, all by myself because a spear just hit a map in the background. thank you very much.

I love the utter ridiculousness of it.

and i’m whacked. doubting myself like crazy pants, and knowing that intuition is a tough one for me, and i relate it to my belief systems in marriage. . .  and i’ve got to figure out what i’m going to do with all my baggage, because i’d like to walk with a slightly lighter step.

and when one decides to look directly at a problem like this: what does it look like?

I’m going to start with some byron katie work.  I’m familiar with this process as i’ve been through it with Chakra Carol in years past.

its a thought re-conditioning sort of thing. i’m taking the kids to the Cape on Monday and I’m going to force myself to get up early and write in the mornings, and i’m dealing with this shit like throwing bricks. obvious and hard.

i am pretty damn sure its just a step in the road, but fuck it.

love you.

-uwmf

 

 

 

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Humanity

kablooey–pudding brain

Nothing is wrong.  I’m just a major sufferer of summer brain, and thats the truth, ruth. Even when i have the time, i rarely get to writing. and its a real truth also, that i’ve had a lot of time this summer without kids, and i haven’t liked it, and I’ve watched too much tv in an attempt to avoid the self-identity issues that come with the removal of the kids.  And I want them to spend time with their father, i do. in fact, i make it so, all the time. but still. I’ve been feeling stuck in chocolate pudding, which at first few bites is the most delicious thing in the world, and then .  on bite 5 you begin to wonder about that slight metallic taste, though you keep eating…

and then its gone, and you know you would eat more if it were there, and you’ve lost all interest in it, and wonder about your own ability to monitor yourself as an adult. you do. i know you do. i can’t be the only one.

Its August something. And I’ve paid for this year’s bus transportation, and have been just been notified of soccer tryouts. Its winding down, or up, as you see it. Summer, while working from home, and adding in a part time job, makes me feel all stuck. in that pudding, you see? hence, hithertofore, the no-writing.

and now you can see how much you’ve benefited from my absence.

I’m laughing like a crazy head pudding eater.

Black and Yellow Stripes Pudding Brain Unwifedmotherexpletive

 

 

Humanity

cool stuff i’ve written.

i’ve written. swear to god, or whatever you think IT is….

so here: proof.

  • unpacking humility.  (oof. is that a book title or what? i mean, not mine, but someone’s.)
  • odd numbers are trees.
  • bubbles of nuclear family: do you incorporate, or do you bounce?
  • when what you desire is immersion and you fear it to paralysis.
  • i’d rather have empty walls and a richly vibrant lady by the fire than a beautifully ornate caravan with an empty shell of me.
  • i exist in dapple today.

these are nice bits and bobs. my oldest graduates from middle school today and its lovely, and i am feeling my age.  i hadn’t totally realized i was a middle-aged-woman, until i saw myself next to him at a pre-semi-formal and there it was.  but whatever. i can write. so there.

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Humanity

old wives tales

ideas for someone else to do.

old wives tales. tales from people who are or have been a wife* for more than a decade. … all your tales are old wives tales. all the things you’ve learned, all the world you’ve seen.

lets venerate ourselves. more, more. more.

get those glennon doyles, those liz gilberts, those oprahs, those anne lamotts… get them, put them in one spot and shine the hell out of them. read them to our kids, start borrowing bits of their knowledge and calling it our own, because we’re them too, just not with any platform.  we do know as much as they do, actually.

although i envy the hell out of their ability to think and process and then SHARE so well.  i’m missing at least one step at all times.

but still. bring it on, we old wives. . .

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*recognizing ‘wife’ doesn’t have to mean ‘church wedding’, or hetero-anything.

Humanity

A Small Life

I have been coming to the realization that there may not be hundreds of people at my funeral.

This may be a strange opening sentence.  I can’t tell anymore. I spend a lot of time alone.

I’m smiling.  people that love me tend to argue with me over this point. i’m not totally sure why. kind of, maybe, but not entirely.

i’m 44, i’m an introvert.  i love and take great great pleasure in working from home and having the kids with me when they are. (mostly. i’m no saint.) i’m a homebody. i don’t want my kids to be sick but its a thrill of a lifetime when they are and i can nourish them to health. *I’m here, I’m the universe.  I love people and I like to see them and laugh with them. but my circles are small, and i take great delight in the smallness of my life, most of the time.

when my dad died 5 years ago, there were hundreds of people at his services. and i’m not exaggerating. and i know other people who are still alive who will have that problem… well, you know what i mean… but i’m working on being really content with who i am.

working like: dirtyhands in the soil working.  cracked skin and calloused fingers.

i have a small life. a little life.  a life with children who are dynamic people living in my home still, a home, a dog, chickens, some land, a very fledgling ability to make a living…small.  *not insignificant, just small.

*the universe is in the grain of rice, ya dig?  thats me.

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