Tuesday, August 20, 2013

the dogs are talking again...

... it means I'm going mental. It's a process- slowly drawn out. The children see shades of its end result- the nasty snapping, the switch that's flipped. The docile doe turns into the howling werewolf poised for a kill.  Its cause is summer. And having children. Who are home for the whole summer. And caring for those children so much that I am spending more time on volunteer work for their school than I would on a full time job. And struggling to find time to do what I love to do. And trying to remember what it is I love to do.

The Mr. asked me the other day- what would make me happy. He was being kind, truly thoughtful. He thought he might find a way to bend the course of things in my favor- just a touch. He was hopeful that I would tell him happiness lies in a night out with him. Or finding work outside of the house and putting Violet in daycare full time. Or getting to go away some place I've always wanted to visit. Or riding horses. Indulging in some small pleasure- just for myself.

The truth is I want to kick everyone out (talking dogs can stay) and enjoy an absence that is not even afforded by the return of my darlings to school. I need 24 hours. At least. They are free to enjoy cotton candy eating, twirl- a- whirling, vomit inducing fun at an amusement park- their holy land. I want to clean my house. Scrub away the dust and scum until I'm choking on disinfectant and wearing the perfume of Murphy's Oil Soap.  And I want to enjoy object permanence- nothing shifts or gets added to the tableau- nothing spills. I want to revel in the noises that come from our 100 year old house. And the dogs. And my own squishy soul. Then I want to sit at my desk and finish an idea. I would make it a good one.

But truly, I just need that time to miss the people that I never get a chance to miss because how can you miss someone or something when it is never ever out of your sight?

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