Well it was recently. This head, I have was full of bees. Angry bees. I have to say, that since having the Bean, my moods once a month have gotten so much more difficult to deal with. I used to have horrific cramps. Now I don’t so often (every few months) but the mood thing is frightful. I never had this problem before. I’d get a little angsty, a little bitchy–but this is an on edge, angry, impatient feeling. And it goes on for DAYS.
Too much information? Too bad. I don’t think women talk enough about what REALLY happens when you have kids. Or afterwards. Or when you turn 40. I don’t think women say enough about these things. Well, they do on blogs–but not enough in conversation. Because too much of how we talk ends up being proscribed by where we are or who we are with. Or not wanting to appear old. Or god forbid not enjoying pregnancy or every single aspect of being mom.
So I try to go both routes, and end up being gauche in two venues.
Anyway, the bees have left my head for this month. Thank whatever powers that are.
The other day I had the distinct pleasure of seeing our daughter perform a dance with her Montessori class. My husband took his place in the dad’s video pit and I snapped away with the digital. My mom and stepfather came too.
And it was great, mostly. I felt the continuum of mother to daughter in a way I hadn’t before. I got to feel family–not something I’m too familar with. I was doing as my mother had done before me and J did as, well as maybe his father (but we don’t know because he fell off the face of the earth when he got remarried)but certainly my dad and stepfather did before him. It felt warm and inclusive and we were a part of something. And the Bean was gorgeous and flamboyant and happy.
The only really odd thing was that it was in my old Junior High. That horrible place. At one point when James was trailing the Bean I asked for a minute and went for a walk in the hallways. And found my locker. I knew, even after all these years, where it was. It wasn’t the same locker, but my hand reached out to try the combination. The one I used to have nightmares about forgetting.
All of this is supposed to fade with time right? And it does, but not as much as you’d think. I had to turn back. I could almost see the revenants of that time moaning towards me with Munchian faces and grasping hands. I wanted to cry and hit the wall.
But I had to stop the indulgence because I needed and wanted to be back in my life with J and the Bean. But I did want that dumbassed painful embrace.
I can’t tell you why it is still important I don’t forget that time.
Have you ever been so content, so absurdly happy it’s frightening? I have to stop myself from obsessing about what could go wrong and just try and plan for safety’s sake. Yes it is all nice now, but it could go bad.
But I’d like to enjoy this. So I meditate when I start freaking a bit.
Because it is so good it’s weird. Good time with friends (though hungry as I am for this, not quite enough) good time volunteering–I feel useful–good time in Church–good time meeting new people. And I’m being myself. I’m looking and acting LIKE MYSELF. Not something I think I need to be, but who and how I am.
What do you do when you feel like you are losing people you care about? Not through problems or disagreements, but just time and distance? I don’t want to lose these girls. But I think we are coming apart. I’m sure they’ll still hold me dear in memory as I would them, but I’D RATHER NOT. You know, have them as memories, rather than friends.
I have bumperstickers on my car again. Fayetteville is the place of bumperstickers. I like this. I think I might decorate Jean-Luc in them.
Life is good and complex, but of course.