Imogen has been cranky all morning. The kind of cranky that involves throwing oneself on the floor and crying uncontrollably. About twenty minutes ago she disappeared downstairs and the house was very quiet. Except for the sound of India Rose crying, but doesn’t really count does it? Anyways, Imogen just emerged from the basement and informed me that she had a massage in the massage chair and now she feels better. Must be nice.
Well, I’m going to do it. I’ve been thinking about it for days and wondering if I care enough anymore and I’ve decided that I do, and it’s time. I’m going to sift through my religious angst.
This will probably be Part One of many parts, so if you’re uninterested in religion, specifically the fundamentalist, charismatic, speaking in tongues, casting out of demons, love the sinner - hate the sin, go to church for fifteen hours a week kind of religion, don’t read this. Or, if you are interested, but in a “but that’s me!” kind of a way, don’t read this. Fair warning.
Now that I’ve started I hardly know where to begin. Perhaps at the end. I walked into my pastor’s office, told her I was experiencing the biggest crisis of my life (affair/divorce), and she informed me that she could pencil me into her calender for a talk in a couple of weeks. Keep in mind that I looked like shit. I was having these weird stress shakes and sleep was difficult. Obviously my life was in a shambles. I had been attending this church for almost ten years, and somehow assumed that these people, these Christians, these followers of Christ (more on that later), and especially the person whose salary I helped to pay through my over and above tithing, would take the time to talk me through some decisions that I needed to make. Call it guidance, or caring, or WWJD. It wasn’t there. And when I walked out of that church after being rebuffed, I walked out for the last time.
The public swimming pool is the great equalizer. Maybe not in Vegas or LA, but where I live it’s impossible not to be at a huge indoor wave pool with unflattering light and realize that most humans are lumpy, unshapely and generally, well, human looking. Fat, cellulite, scrawny limbs, hairy bodies, scars, ill fitting bathing suits, and for some, ugly tattoos, all seem to be a part of the non-photoshopped human condition.
The most beautiful people at the pool - the children. Even with water-logged swim diapers and water booger noses, kids easily swim away with the trophy for “cutest at the pool”. Most of them. The ones who go around stealing water toys from babies piss me off.
Me: “So, anyways, today was pretty fun. Imogen and I wrote a letter to her cousin and mailed it and she really tried to use the potty. Plus, I got 3 loads of laundry done!”
Me: “Wow. This wine is good. I just got my bikini waxed.”
Axel: “I just invented something! I need my logbook!”
And, thus, life goes on.
Throwing a snowball at a kid when they’re in the bath is pretty much awesome.
I just heard about a young family that I know, albeit not very well. Two children, one is two weeks old. Affair, parents splitting, toddler hates the newborn, turmoil.
I may bitch and complain about cold weather, Imogen saying the same thing to me thirty-seven times over, India Rose coughing her baby cereal all over my face and Axel NEVER hanging up wet towels and then using the hand towel to dry off after his morning shower. The thing is, all of these things are inconsequential. My beautiful daughters are healthy and happy and my heart swells with joy and love every time I look at them (except at 2:30 in the morning and one of them will not go to sleep). Axel and I are still completely in love and I don’t even want to fathom not having him in my life. I realize that am very lucky to have this with someone.
It wasn’t always this way. It may be minus thirty, but I am not worrying about how I’m going to pay the heating bill. Yesterday I forgot to go grocery shopping for dinner because I was caught up in my book. Axel went after working all day and maybe was a little bit annoyed, but I am able to find the time and energy to read! And to make it up to him today I made Indian inspired chai carrot cupcakes with vanilla bean cream cheese icing. Friends come over for coffee and chats and I LOVE being able to make them a delicious americano and share the joys and trials of motherhood and just generally being in our thirties. I have an amazing life and some days I have a hard time believing it’s actually mine. Today I was reminded of all that I have.
I’m thankful. That is all.
I just found India eating a $20 bill. Whatever happened to babies eating normal, gross things off the floor like hairballs, random pieces of toddler food, and your husbands dirty socks that he leaves EVERYWHERE. Twenty bucks is a bottle of wine yo!
My daughter just informed me that her doll bottle is filled with diesel. I was surprised that she knew the word diesel, so I asked her what she was going to do with it. “Throw it in the ocean Mummy!”. Apparently we are not raising an environmentalist.