Minkgirl Muses

Gman went back to school yesterday, after nearly a week at home due to chicken pox. Since he’s been immunized (unlike British kids), he had an extremely mild case with only a dozen spots and absolutely no other symptoms. Nonetheless, civic protocol required me to keep him home for a week, so it was 5 long days of double-mama duty, my first experience of this delight. But while I initially dreaded my plunge into the parental cold-pool, honestly, I enjoyed our week together. Like all new things, it was scary at first: “How will I keep him from jumping on Miss V and covering her with pox-infested kisses?”, “How will I keep from killing him if he spends all day throwing attitude at me like he’s been doing lately.” But despite my worries, I figured it out and managed (mostly) to keep my temper. There were massive play sessions involving all the pillows and balls in the house. Chaos was created and cleaned up hourly. There were lots of snacks and lots of tv. We did leave the house a couple of times to go to the park – outdoors being the only safe place for a kid with the pox – but even on the days we stayed inside, we somehow found a way to pass the time.

And I discovered, as I often do when I am most at odds with Gman, that the more time I spend with him, the more quickly I find solutions to mend what ails us. Enforced togetherness forces me to really listen to him and be more creative in my parenting. And having some fun together doesn’t hurt either. It’s odd, but I often find that my worst parenting days are followed by my best parenting days – like I’m attached to some kind of cosmic bungee-cord, ricocheting between the depths and the heights of the parental plane. Smack your kid on Saturday and by Tuesday you may have discovered a new and fun way to get him to eat his vegetables, while simultaneously developing his pre-literacy skills and building his self-confidence. Bizarre. So I guess the pox, like so many unexpected events, was a blessing in disguise.

And now, one blessing has yielded another. Having lost my solitude for a week, I am doubly grateful to have it again. Lord Limescale is still working part-time for the next few days and generously taking Gman to school and picking him up, which means that I have nearly SEVEN UNINTERRUPTED HOURS OF SOLITUDE each day. Those of you with children will appreciate how remarkable this gift is. It is great great great to have so much QUIET – kind of like Body Butter for the soul – it lubes up all my creative parts and creates a deep and gentle sense of satisfaction. Just being in my house, getting to putter and do all my homegirl activities, getting to stare out the window at the shadows shifting on the house opposite ours, getting to stare at my baby, getting to nap – all these simple pleasures are so much sweeter because they were denied me last week.

One of Gman’s favorite games lately is to make my voice “disappear.” He’ll say “Abracadabra!” and I’ll move my mouth without sound, pretending that I have no voice. Then he’ll repeat the magic words and my voice will return. He usually likes to play when he’s in need of a power boost, and I don’t mind, because he giggles a lot in a really cute way while he does it. But it reminds me that sometimes I wish I could make his voice disappear! He talks more and more each day – clearly he is carrying on the legacy of verbosity that derives from my mother and myself – each day questions, stories, ideas, narrations, and all manner of mumbling, whining and other patter erupts from him in ever growing torrents. He is, in fact, almost never silent – just like he is almost never still. I remember one of the phrases that stood out when I read The Mommy Myth a few years back was that in addition to all the good stuff, raising children also entails a lot of mundane, boring, and just plain annoying parts, one of which is the “enervating noise.” That certainly rings true for me. The best part about the solitude my special post-partum period affords me is a chance to escape that noise for a little while, so I can hear the sound of my own thoughts again, and the quiet rhythmic hum of my own trusty soul.

Be well.

Labels: Family Life, Mamahood