This Sunday morning I snuggled my child, made coffee, had a nice long chat with my husband, sent my father a note, gave text props to my sisters, and answered a couple of emails. I looked into grocery delivery service for someone I think could use it and then realized they probably don’t think they could use it so didn’t send.
Yesterday I taped my hurty foot up and got to walking in the trees again. This time I noticed the man-made stuff cluttering my nature experience a lot more than the time before. I noticed rooftops, fences, signs about various hazards, signs saying private property keep out and generally a lot of kind of buzz-kill stuff in the midst of otherwise gorgeous green fluffy flora nature with big views, the whole deal.
“Why does everything have to have some health benefit or financial benefit or neuropsychiatric effing benefit?” I heard myself moaning to my friend Giselle the other day. “Why can’t I just do something because I want to and I like it and that’s it? Does it have to be thing?”
It took exactly twelve days for Ax to announce that having a camp-free summer was not as good as he thought it would be. Or rather, to let me know that he was complete with his camp-free experience and now was ready, for, camp.
My sister Rosie, before her visit, told me clearly that she and her four-year-old just wanted to “relax” while they stayed with us. What that meant, I knew, was that they wanted to chill, build lego, swim, eat healthy food, possibly beach, possibly hike. And that’s it. No sight-seeing, no parties, no plans.
If I really really wanted what they have, I could do what they do, is another option. Or a teeny, tiny little bit more of what they do might get me a teeny, tiny little bit more of what they have: different body, different income, different swagger in the world.
The last few days my anxiety has been up, way up, for no particular reason that I can determine. I mean, of course I can rattle off the laundry list of stuff going on currently that I could use as evidence to justify my anxiety — things are happening, life is in session, people are existing according to their plan, not mine, there’s too much plastic, all that.
Let’s begin: I do enough. I have enough. I am enough. Ok. So I know all that, intellectually. And, in my heart, or maybe belly, or foot, there is still that little speck of, “Well, sure, enough ... BUT ... I could do, have, and be more.” And that BUT is what for many years ran the show, drove me and my life, my relationships, actions, choices.
So I went to my 30th high school reunion this weekend with my BFF Bianca Babesberg. I love her so much but over the years she’s also represented a bit of a thorn in my ego paw. Not her fault, she’s doing her. But she seems to be doing it so damn well, and so damn successfully and happily, while looking smoking hot all the time btw, that it’s tough to stand in the shadow of that, or even near it — and I am clear that I am the person making the shadow, doing the comparison rather than co-existence thing, with this person who I love and who loves me and who doesn’t do what she does to make me feel shitty, whose life is not about me, really at all, but rather includes me, or can include me, if I let it.
It’s not like I forget exactly but every now and then I’m reminded that I’m gonna die, my kid is gonna die, and everyone I know is gonna die — and not on my schedule. So then it becomes what do I want to do with this turn at living? What kind of person do I want to be in the world? How do I want to enjoy this earthly body, this life, this trip? What are my values?
This Summer my dream is that I enjoy Ax’s company when I have it. That I stay calm and accepting in the face of marathon lego sessions, sofa cushion fort-building and destroying, loud cartoons, and rejections of my offers for outings to the beach, zoo, playground, hiking trails, tennis courts or any other outdoor wholesome activities.
Yesterday Ax and I returned to the tennis court for a lesson with Coach Tommy. The plan was I’d watch Ax for half an hour, then take fifteen minutes for myself, which is all I wanted to test my foot with.
Ax still eats cheese tortellini marinara every day. He’s trained me to stop trying new foods and I have, mostly. He eats cheese tortellini for lunch and dinner and chocolate chip muffins or chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.
It’s been the longest stretch of not blogging in a few years and I was starting to get that stick to beat myself with and then I thought well, maybe I’ll just put myself on my sofa with coffee and a blanket and my writing stuff and see what happens.
Every now and then, well pretty frequently actually, things don’t work out the way I planned them to or perhaps wanted them to. People, situations, and logistics don’t come together as they would if I were the writer/director/producer of my existence.
My friend Jinx is launching her fifth or sixth successful business and after a long day of meetings she came over, flopped down in one of the stained white club chairs, and wondered aloud, “Is it a power shoe if there’s no heel?”