Little m Long a

Some days are diamonds.  This is not.

I woke this morning with the image of Joe Cool dancing to a melody Schroeder was banging out on the piano.  I hit the snooze because it’s what I do.  Snoopy stopped dancing and I got ten more minutes.  Happy feet can’t be still, though and when he started again I got up.

The day ahead was full of promise.  Of hope.  Of field trips and new shoes.  Of sack lunches and smoothies.  Little things that mean worlds to little people who mean the world.

The world turns — quickly.

Why’s fall from trembling lips as tears fall from sad eyes.  How comes are without explanation.  There are no answers — none  suitable.

I’m sorry will have to do.

Today is Earth Day and I’m going to be digging a hole though I’m not planting a tree.   Rather I’ll be saying goodbye to a sweet friend, and the greatest attack cat ever.

Goodbye, Cinnamon

To roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I —-

I bent down to tie my shoe and lost my balance.  I grabbed for a branch to no avail and fell headlong into the fucking stream.  Now I’m soaking wet, bruised, and so far from either path that even if I did find my way back I wouldn’t know which way to turn once I got there.

The delusions of control, the fuzzy feelings way deep down that let me rest peacefully each night are slowly eroding away.  My life as a Rockwell painting is becoming a Dali.  Or a Pollack.   Maybe it’s the onset of spring, the final push toward the promise of summer.  Patience is an ideal and my children live in the I want it now.  They grow restless with anticipation, weary of the toils of an unusually long school year, and by restless I mean annoying.

They are at each other constantly.  Yelling, hitting, pushing, fighting, arguing.  Crying, whining, pouting, sulking.  And by constantly I mean IT NEVER STOPS!!!  Their behavior is bad.

It’s worse than bad.  It’s reprehensible.  Hell, I don’t even know what reprehensible really means but it sounds a lot worse than bad, so that’s what their behavior has been.  REPREHENSIBLE!!

Or maybe they’re just tired.  It could be that they just haven’t adjusted to the fact that the sun is still up when they are supposed to be going down for the night.  I’m tired, too but I’m not afforded the luxury of that excuse.  My lot is have to.

And so I will.

But I’m going to need a lot more motrin…..

And maybe Vodka!

Laughter fills the room where children are playing oblivious to my exasperation.  Lessons have ended far from complete.  I clear the table.  Distracted, detached or otherwise completely uninterested in either content or purpose they have moved on.  Wooden puzzle pieces clank to the floor as they are dropped from their formed cutout containers.  Crayons and colored pencils are scattered around the room as they would rather toss undesired hues than set them aside.  Crumpled scraps of paper dot the floor, artwork in various stages of completion.  A trail of books leads to the shelves from which they were housed, a trail that most assuredly will remain as the need to re shelve is clearly not a priority.  Squabbles escalate.  Declarations of “Mine!” become shouts then screams.  Eventually tears.  “I’m sorrys” and “that’s OKs” are exchanged.  Hugs.  The cycle repeats itself.  Typical. 

Unable to see the importance, to grasp the implications they move carelessly and thoughtlessly from task to task without ever really applying themselves.  I attempt to draw focus, to rein them in, to pinpoint a purpose eventually conceding the effort’s futility.  At least for tonight.  Why do I bother investing of myself, my time, my energy, my heart?  Why do I care if they refuse to do so?  No epiphany.  Quite simply, it’s my job as a parent.

The lessons will be there tomorrow, and kids will be kids.  Tomorrow, though, I’ll be rested.