Sunday, November 22, 2009

Super Me

Exhausted, but super. That's me.

I am our primary breadwinner these days, with three clients to write grants for and a project to coordinate. I am taking a writing class. And I am beginning an acting project.

I am our primary parent these days, and I am doing more than I ever have. I make meals and clean up after them, do the laundry, clean the bathroom, care for our son and take him to school and read to him and spell with him and play with him.

I take out the trash and compost and recycling and I sweep the floors.

I build our fires. Two of them so far, the one tonight astonishingly good, if I say so myself.

I care for my husband, who is recovering nicely, but still needs me to pick things up off the floor and take off/put on his t.e.d. hose (such fun) and make most of his meals.

I have almost finished all of our Christmas shopping, online of course.

I have begun working on Christmas project-gifts and cards.

I have never, ever done this much for others in my entire life.

I remember, vaguely, that I used to spend time lying on the couch, reading.

I am not particularly resentful. Which is surprising, in a vague and quiet sort of way.

Activity breeds activity, it seems.



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Sunday, November 15, 2009

What I Did Today (subtitle: Marriage)

I helped my husband out of bed, made coffee, made husband's oatmeal, made my son's peanut butter toast,
made my own oatmeal.

That's all the specific chronology I can recall. In no particular order, I also:

- emptied husband's pee bottle, 3 or 4 or 5 times (I think)
- watched husband walk to chair
- watched him walk back to bed
- put pillows under his legs for elevation
- took pillows out
- watched him do his physical therapy
- listened to too many stories to mention (including a really, really, really long one about one evil nurse who tore his bandages off, giving him blisters unnecessarily, and who was snarky and controlling - and she really was; I know because I had spoken with her on the phone the day before while figuring out discharge)
- got regularly sidetracked from all tasks by stories like the one above
- brought husband water, meds, pens, a sketchbook, his reacher, headphones, corn chips, soup & rice, an apple, a banana, orange juice & sparkling water
- just realized that he either didn't have dinner or else I forgot what it was
- made a cheese quesadilla for son for lunch, along with his cut-up apple
- listened to son spell many words
- made son soup for dinner
- made chocolate chip cookies, from scratch
- cleaned the kitchen two or three times
- kept the bathroom clean, a necessary task when one little boy pees on the toilet seat and one man does as well (when he's not using the bottle) because he can't easily reach said seat to lift
- took husband's TED hose off and then 2 hours later put them back on
- signed family up for netflix
- WORKED for an hour on grant-writing
- watched small pieces of at least 3 football games
- gave son a bath and washed his hair, never a jolly experience
- read a story about Thomas the Tank Engine, the title of which I cannot recall, in which the steamies fight with the diesels until Thomas has a dream where Lady tells him she gets along with Rusty, so he goes and finds friendly Mavis (a diesel) and together they get everyone working together again
- took a bath myself
- helped husband learn how to use new laptop for the first time, including figuring out how to work speakers for his viewing of The Daily Show and Colbert Report
- took out the garbage twice
- folded and put away a basket of laundry
- WORKED for 30 minutes or so on coordinating young playwrights program
- moved furniture around, bringing dining room side table into bedroom to make an extended bedside table big enough to hold water, light, magazines, books, sketchpads, meds, headphones, more sketchpads, lots of pens and pencils in three different cases, purell, and a lavendar eye pillow
- emailed some friends
- fell into Facebook
- wrote this post

And all through the day, I felt constantly shifting layers of mild to moderate irritation, tremendous thankfulness to have my husband home again, gratitude for the friends and family who took Finn on an outing for the afternoon, and another who brought unexpected, yummy food for dinner - and I was filled with pride in my husband for working so diligently on his recovery. For his commitment to get self-sufficient as soon as possible. My list of what I did is long, but his was harder - strengthening exercises to get a new hip working, figuring out how to reach and grasp and get what he needs without calling for help, doing whatever he could to care for himself.

I am married. We, my husband and I, are married. And this is what it looked like, and felt like, today.

Right before he was going to sleep, 45 minutes ago or so, we were talking and we both said, "It was a good day today!" And it was. We had time together alone, while Finn was out - and we sat in bed while he watched football and I wrote a piece of a grant.

Days like this are why I am married. And why I love it. I don't in any way wish this to be an everyday or usual occurence, as I know my husband does not wish to have major surgery on a regular basis. But when things like that occur, when need for help is at a higher level than normal days - it feels good. I felt, to paraphrase Thomas, like a really useful engine.

Love was muscular today.
Active.
Not romantic.
Real.



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Friday, November 6, 2009

Writing...

I just spent 90 minutes writing.

And I wrote for 2 hours on the train earlier today.

Not grant writing. Not even journal or blog or email writing.

Not to denigrate those forms, they have helped sustain me.

But I have not written like this, for this amount of time, real creative writing, in YEARS.

And even this isn't entirely new, it's an article / story I'm working on for the class I'm taking, a memoir kind of piece about the making of See Me Naked.

But the primary point of importance here is that I wrote today, for 3 and 1/2 hours. Alone. Uninterrupted. Something I have not done since late spring 2004.

Five years.

I am humbled and saddened by that realization. Although I would not trade away one moment of motherhood. And I actually miss my little family, right now, now that the writing is done and only solitary bed awaits.

But I need to, must, need to know this and remember it and not, not falter -

I am a writer.

I am a good writer.

I love writing.

If it took a solo trip to get me started again, fine.

If I need to take a train ride once a month, fine.

Ferries are cheap, too, and the one to Bremerton and back takes nearly two hours.

I just cannot wait anymore. I have to do this, and what I need is chunks of time away from the voices of husband and son.

I love being quiet. I just love it. I love my family, too, and I bet I'll love them even more when I get to have my writing time. My dreaming time. My life.

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