Kindergarten Krazies

It's noon. The phone rings as I exit the store. The wind is unforgivingly frigid. It's amazing I even made it there in one piece to begin with. Snow was drifting and falling across the roads, which were only identifiable because of the dirt trails cut by other idiotic drivers like myself. It's the school. They've cancelled school for the rest of the day could I come get Cooper. (Duh! It's not like the weather took a surprise turn for the worse!) So I slowly fishtail my way to the school.

It's crazy hair day today. I spent several minutes that morning with gel and hair spray manufacturing the messiest hair style possible, and setting it like concrete. Cooper was pumped! He was sure his hair would be the craziest.

I walk into the room and see the various interpretations parents had of crazy hair looking at me from a calmly cross legged, clump on the floor. The teacher walks over to greet me bracing a book in her armpit. At this moment I realized how much you can learn about a parents views/values on a day like this. There was everything from a Mohawk to three pony tails (that parent went all out crazy!). It was at this moment I became the catalyst to chaos.

"Wow. There sure is some crazy hair in this room!"

There was an immediate explosion of 15 little explanations of the creative process undertaken that morning by their parents. I learned about mediums, methods, and negotiations without even having to ask! Pretty soon they were trying to out talk each other. The noise level rose and rose. Cooper looked around in shock, or terror I'm not sure which. It wasn't long before the calm clump was mobile. They were after me. Dawn of the Dead! Then my attention shifted to the teacher for an apology. My lack of attention was all it took. They were spinning circles, skipping, pulling on each other's clothes. It had degraded into pure chaos.

At this moment I thought, "Well if Mrs. Dolan shares my insight about the hair style being a reflection of the parents views/values, she shouldn't be at all surprised by my inate ability to amass chaos!"

Corney ramblings

Well no major meltdowns today. I felt as normal as one who is amputated from "normality" can. I didn't get to run which made me feel like shit. My calf still hurts but I know it will get better soon and I'll be back to ass kicking as normal.

The boys were cute today, for a while. They cancelled school at noon so I had them both all day. We watched movies together, did an art project involving planes and rockets, baked cookies, built a space station and a large Thomas rail line. They ate pigs-in-a-blanket and tomato soup for dinner. WE finished it off with two bedtime stories. Sounds like June Cleaver doesn't it? Don't be fooled. Mrs cleaver wished on the first star to be Ani Difranco, or Anais Nin, or Evita, or any Childless independent woman she could think of.

The boys couldn't have known that inside I was screaming to get the hell out of the house by myself. My ability to maintain a calm and patient outter shell while my interior wriggled restlessly to be independent was unnerving. Will kissed me spontaneously on the arm as I reached to open the oven to pull the cookies out. The string attached to that kiss pulled me back to earth.

The string attached to that kiss didn't remedy the fact that I've lost my independence. It meant something. I'm not sure what, but if I don't screw up to badly it'll be something good. I know that because when they were both asking me questions simultaneously, and instead of getting an answer, I asked for 5 minutes alone they both obliged without a complaint. Yes, I had Cooper when I was young. Yes, I wasn't ready. Yes, sometimes I still feel like I'm not ready. The boys show me how to truly love someone else if I'm willing to learn. As I follow their example I become ready.

No parent is perfect (except me! hahahahah), but parents who listen and learn are at least trying. I'm convinced there's a kiddie point system and that they give bonus points for trying even if you screw up. Attention, concern, interest, compassion, space when I need it, are all things that my kids give me. These are things they need me to return in favor. On days when I need these from myself they let me be selfish without holding it against me. I hope I can remember that when they are teenagers! For now Don't be fooled by the apron... it doesn't signify quite obedient servitude, I'm not wearing a thing underneath and I'm terrible at taking orders!

It's coming down

Not to bring the rest of the world down with me, but I'm beginning to think i was giving myself too much credit concerning my emotional strength. The role reversal Casey and I have undergone is a lot in its self.... From stay at home dad to working dad, from working mom to stay at home mom. To pile on top of that the 500 mile commute he makes to Nashville every Tuesday night, and back again every Saturday night, arriving at his destination in the wee hours of the morning; we only talk about once a day and that conversation is always in the presence of others. We have always been best friends.

Now I find myself with no one to talk too. Hence the blog. I love my kids, but I'm sick of being unaffected. I'm pissed. I'm scared. I feel very alone in all of this because who is there to tell this to except this stupid blog. Really don't want to put it on him. He knows. I know he knows. He feels the weight too, pressing him down. It is suffocating but not like drowning, or a pillow on the face. It's slower, heavier. Giles Corey might understand. It's like rocks on your chest, or having your torso wrapped in cellophane. There really isn't a way to scream, and I don't feel like it anyway. I just want to settle in and wait for it to pass. My one sanctuary keeps getting invaded by injuries or illness or weather. The waiting seems endless, and narrow. The waiting is what stirs me to anger some days.