So tired, all good

I must go now; sleep overtakes me. But tonight, as four generations sat round a table at a neighborhood Italian restaurant in which the average age was Medicare, my littlest one discovered steamed artichokes and melted butter -"Excuse me," he said to our waiter, "I would like another artichoke."- and my oldest put on a "fancy dress" outfit and held my hand the whole evening.  

Ol and his second artichoke

My boys! What a lovely dinner- thank you, Mimi!

On Fences

A freewrite from a magnificent class I'm taking...

Each year, my elementary school hosted a family fun fest. There was a small petting zoo, face painting and both jump rope and fence-painting contests. I loved the fence painting. Each kid would get a four-plank section, about as tall as we were then, a bucket of white paint and a wide brush.

On your marks, get set, GO! And we were off.

There's a picture of me, in one of my mom's old albums. She must have forty albums in her cabinets; she was so good about taking pictures and notating the backs and organizing them. The picture that floats so clearly in my memory is of me wearing overalls and a floppy straw hat. A sprig of wheat hangs from my mouth, and the freckles across the bridge of my nose look as if Mom had drawn them on with eyeliner.

I am smiling grandly, paintbrush in hand. As soon as the "GO" would sound, I'd dunk the brush in the paint and slosh it up and down the coarse planks. Up and down, up and down, until my fence was gleaming white. "Done!"

I think I won, but I could be wrong. The fun of it was just that. Having fun. Not worrying if my fence was sloppily done or if white drips coursed towards the grass. It was simple, elemental.

Today when I think of fences, I think of our country trying to keep people out.

I think of the fences people are prone to erecting around their hearts and around monuments for security and preservation purposes.

I think of the ways fences keep things in, too often under the insincere guise of protection. I think that when I pass a fence and the gate is open, I smile.

Each summer, we go to a North Carolina beach with extended family. There are two paths to the beach from the place we stay. I always choose the same one because it leads me by a stunning home whose perfectly manicured yard is surrounded by a gate that is always ajar. Invariably, I see a bunny inside, and I think, "How nice. You can come and go as you please."

Topsy Tuesday

Sleep deprivation from (not) sleeping with and tending to my sick Ol for the past three nights is starting to wear on me. He didn't go to school yesterday, and I knew as soon as I woke up this morning, his sweaty little head in the crook of my right shoulder, that he'd stay home again today. 

Ol is the sweetest, easiest sick kid there is, but I am not as young as I once was and I also have nothing left in the way of post-pregnancy or nursing hormones. Swear to god, those things are tricksters of the best sort. I used to get up and rock and nurse my boys with a smile on my face. It was the loveliest, quietest time although admittedly, I often felt on another planet. (And surely not every feeding session was so welcome or magnificent; mastitis anyone?)

Once, so out of it at my parents' house after waking to feed Ol for the umpteenth time, I remember passing my mother in the hall (she is a night owl of extreme degree). I was weaving a bit, but her odd expression wasn't about that. No, it was because my left breast was hanging out of my nightgown. I guess I'd forgotten to tuck it away. 

Whatever. Point is, I'm not there anymore, in any way, and these sleepless nights are exhausting.

Fortunately, Tom made me coffee this morning with a fetching fig design on top. It helped. I took Mr. J to school, took Ol to the doctor and then watched as he took to the table with a box of kleenex and the iPad. 

He watched more episodes of Oggy and the Cockroaches than I care to admit (though it is an amusing and largely wordless show), but the child could hardly lift an ice cream sandwich to his lips, so I just let him go. I made jam and tidied up and wrote for class.

Especially because I'm tired, it has been tough to negotiate my dismay and frustration over not having had these past two mornings nor, in all likelihood, tomorrow's. I've canceled at least five appointments in the past two days and spent almost none of the time in class that I'd relished last week or committed to for this one.  I have, actually, had an excellent time with Oliver, and I love caring for such a sweet and funny soul, but...

Ah, motherhood. Look, it even makes Nutmeg pooped.

That cat is out! 

Jack and his wild creativity (and terrific nerdtastic'ness!) did provide me a hearty belly-laugh tonight.

"Look, Mom! It's an Imperial Pi Fighter!" #starwarsandnerdhumor

Imperial Pi (vs. TIE) Fighter

I laughed so hard I almost burped. Swear! I'm going to sleep now.