Saturday, October 18, 2008

Whew...

Week one of solo parenting:

3 different babysitters for Finn, for 3 different nights/weekend days of work;
I-don't-know-how-many dvds conned out of said babysitters;
1 night of working with Finn, at auditions;
3 extra days of Extended Day Care for Finn at school;
at least 3 crying, angry, sad times while there;
at least 3 okay times;
maybe 1 or 2 actual happy times;
3 school lunches (all of them eaten, joyfully);
1 sobbing fit of my own in the car, in the middle of a particularly tough day;
2 after-school visits to the blissfully quiet, empty, serene Mission Trails Park;
a couple of work crises;
1 bad haircut (Finn's, not mine);
too many calls with Kenny to count.

How do people do this?

I guess things become a routine. I guess things get easier, or one gets used to the difficulty. At the end of the day yesterday, I had never been so exhausted.

Then last night I actually slept, well, and stayed in bed dozing and sleeping from Finn's 7:15am wake-up through his early morning playing and 1 dvd until 9:00 Praise-the-Lord am.

And today I didn't officially have to work, and I was rested, and Finn was rested, and we went at his pace, and we went nowhere near school, and we went to dance class together, and then he spent 90+ minutes playing in a park while I got to talk to my sister on the phone, and we came home and ate lunch, and we read some books, and he watched his favorite movie Ratatouille while I managed to do a load of laundry AND check work email AND write part of a grant.

Today was a very good day.

Kenny comes home October 30. I can't really think that far ahead, or I might die. Life at the moment is a strange balance of:

"Think ahead. Make a list. Write down everything. Check off one thing. Move on. Check off another...."

and

"Stop. Breathe. Be. Here. Now."

Tomorrow there is no schedule. Thank you, God. There are tasks - Salvation Army and the 99cent store to shop for 2 chairs and the last few props for the set for the tour, get the house in order for the week, maybe even surprise myself and make a meal or lunch or something AHEAD OF TIME.

Who am I?

Work is just plain hard work right now. It's probably two of the worst weeks of my work-year for Kenny to be gone. But it is what it is, and he is well. Working hard, earning money, in his beloved gray, calm, green Seattle. He stays in an aerie of a room, with windows that look on a gray lake and green trees and nothing (not a single car alarm, not a boombox, not a tire screech, not a circling helicopter) can be heard. He is blissful. Lonely, missing us, but happy to be where he is.

And my work is work. Everyone gets grumpy when a show gets toward tech, and we have a touring show heading towards tech, and a set with fabric that shrank while painting, and a van to rent, and blah blah blah. And there are still shows to be booked, and income is down, and grants are due, and there's another show to program and cast, OH, and we had auditions for FOUR different plays this week, and I'm late on writing contracts for the entire artistic staff, and there's a special event to worry about, and school residencies to program, and school residencies to sell, and I don't have to do all of the work but I have do a lot of it, and everyone else does too, and so everyone is cranky, and tired, and and and.

And I'm doing my part in 2 to 3 hour bursts in between drives to and from Finn's school and in between breakfast, lunch, and dinner prep, and trying to not be the yelling, mad, "no-one-wants-to-be-her" mother.

And Kenny will be home in 12 days. Which I prefer to think of as a week, and a little bit. Because that's what it is, really. He left early in the morning last Sunday, and we made it to here, Saturday night. So now all we have to do is that same week one more time! And then we have to do a few more days. Which will be easy!

I pray.

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Wednesday, October 8, 2008

School pictures, Grandma pictures

I posted this because I love this picture, and wanted to share. What a wonderful swing, wonderful boys, and a wonderful Grandma & Mom.

Finn looks a little funny, sure.

He took his first school picture today. The teacher's aide reported to Kenny that he cried, and basically freaked out. They had, somewhat unwisely in my opinion, staged the school pictures in the same room where they tested kids' hearing - basically, the room where no counting or music or art or anything fun takes place - the room where adults lie in wait to do scary things to unsuspecting 4 year olds.

So Finn cried. He calmed down while he watched the other kids have their pictures taken, but it's unclear whether he was actually photographed, or what those photos will look like.

This, in a nutshell, is why I hate being a full-time working mother. I wanted to be there. I wanted to get the story first-hand, and I wanted it to be a happy story! Although that is unfair to Kenny, I realize.

Finn and I even practiced for his pictures. He showed me all his faces - surprised, mad, sad, grumpy, and happy. We agreed happy would be great for the picture.

So I don't really care what the school picture looks like. You all might have to deal with it when it's on your fridge, but I know what the real picture looks like - a happy, close-mouthed grin with shining bright eyes looking right into mine, on the most beautiful boy in the world.




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Tuesday, October 7, 2008

I prefer Franklin Delano Roosevelt...

and I keep waiting for Barack Obama to join me.

I want him to Stand Up and Say: "I myself look to the other, younger Roosevelt for inspiration - the one who led his country out of a Great Depression, by creating visionary programs that put Americans to work, building our nation's dams and highways and making art and teaching schools, the one who believed in the notion that we should take take of each other and brought that notion to life with the radical idea of Social Security, the one whose wife was one of the best friends to the citizens of this country the United States has ever seen, the President Roosevelt whose intelligent leadership brought our country to victory in a World War, the one who did not worry himself with colloquialisms about sticks and soft voices, but who called out to a nation to banish fear and look to the future."

Obama speech-writers, please take heed - give us a little soaring, inspirational joy. It's time. If I have to listen to that crotchety old man say "my hero Teddy Roosevelt" one more time I might scream.


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