8/20/9

olive wears her sister's flip flops all day today. they are a few sizes too big. she puts them on the wrong feet and they don't fit her. they fall off every 10 minutes, or she trips every 5. but she screams if i try to talk her into another pair of shoes. and now at the end of the day, as her dad has somehow lured them all out of my space for a while, i see her tromping around in them, and feel guilty that she doesn't have flip flops that fit her properly. i feel guilty for not being psychic and knowing way ahead of time that she is going to have an urge to wear flip flops and that i can't manifest the perfect size instantly. i begin the process of beating myself up, for not being perfect and psychic. my sister is so right about me being too hard on myself. so is my therapist. i am too fucking hard on myself. i just saw it so clearly as that awful, dark cloud of guilt came over me, guilty for not having goddamn flip flops in a children's size 7, right now.

8/21/9

i am crazy. and i love it when other people share their unique version of craziness, lay it out for others to see. share their imperfectness, shine light on their imperfections. make fun of their imperfections! seriously, i am so so grateful when others reveal themselves. it is so refreshing. so i make a practice of doing it myself. this is why i love anne lamott. and amy fusselman. and ariel gore. (please tell me more who are like this if you know any...)

today, i really felt like i might not be able to do my job anymore (stay at home mom, hardest job i know of, btw). it SO reminded me of childbirth without an epidural, that i just started conjuring memories from those experiences. things my doula would say, like, this one's almost over. it's not gonna last forever, is a good thing for me to remember these days, because, my kids SUCK so bad these days i can't even believe i am letting myself say that. but i have my off days, and i will admit when it is i who suck. i suck somedays so badly that i just shake my head and give warnings to anyone who is unfortunate enough to cross paths with me. these past few days tho, it is not i, but the children. and now i sound totally devoid of any compassion. i'm not. i'm simply telling it like it is. they suck so bad. the 2 year old cries at any opportunity presented. if someone speaks to her, that is an opportunity. if someone looks at her, another one. if the earth turns a bit more, another one. the 5 year old is obsessed with making paper dog bones for her stuffed dogs. she draws them, and then cuts them out. well, actually, she doesn't like the way she draws them, so she has me draw them for her. today i told her i like the way she draws them better than the way i do. and i was TOTALLY serious. hers look like real bones. mine look like cartoon bones. i am just realizing as i write this that we need to start shaping them from clay. well, after a few rounds of me telling her i like hers and i prefer hers and why, and her saying she likes mine and blah blah, blah blah, she just melted down, and cried for 20 minutes at the table instead of eating her lunch. and that by itself is no problem. sometimes we just have to cry, and when it's time, it's time, to let out the frustrations of being a human. but my deal, is that the two year old had been crying intermittently for hours already, the 7 year old had just finished his most intense tantrum to date, literally looking for things to take off the wall and chuck across the room, because the two year old had put his pirate skull tattoo on her arm. he started embodying the hulk because of this injustice done to him. so hey, daddy, i feel like you owe me a bit of help here, cause showing him the first episode of the hulk show has definitely changed the way he behaves when he is angry. he also picked up his metal toy box full of toys, and hoisted it above his head and looked like he was full-force going to throw it at me. i don't know how i talked him down from that, but i did. i kind-of think he is looking for a reason to get angry so he can test himself and see if he turns into the hulk. he and the 5 year old were arguing today about what the hulk's name is in real life. max was insisting it is david, and zhi was saying it is lou. he should know better than to argue with her. she is a girl, come on. we are right 98% of the time. or is it 99?

but, am i painting the picture clearly enough? this is what has been going on for days upon days now. the 5 and 7 year old fight nonstop. the 2 year old cries nonstop. then, right after the 2 year old has settled down, the 5 year old is mean to her. then we are all so tired we take a wee break from fighting and crying, and we read a book. except, then, they have to fight about the book, and who can or can't see the pictures from where they're sitting, and which one to read, and lately, the 2 year old insists on holding the one the others want to read, and no compromise is possible for another 10 minutes while everyone cries about the new horrible situation. so after that, we are sometimes able to read a book and listen to mama's beautiful voice that she is forcing out through a rippling headache, while she takes lots of little pauses to breathe, cause this is the first time she's been able to breathe for hours.

and i love them. i am away from them for a couple hours while the grandma has them, and ironically, the husband just sent me, the wife~mama`woman, a video of the babes from a year ago, and it brings her to tears, and she is filled with so much love for them she softens and relaxes in her body quite a bit. why is she speaking of herself in the third person? we don't know. who are we? we won't tell. yeah. so. when it rains it pours. and when it's time to make a shift in consciousness, or enter into a new developmental stage, or grow your two front grown-up teeth, or realize that you can't suck on your mom's boobs forever, and definitely not 24 hours a day, or when you realize you have to practice A LOT to get good at just about anything.....it hurts. it's just designed to hurt to get born. it hurts everyone involved. the birther who has to literally stretch her bones, the newborn who has to literally have her skull squeezed into a new shape, the one with the testicles that made the seed who is being threatened to have his balls cut off so this kind-of pain never happens again, the doula whose hands get squeezed to the point of lost circulation and who is told to fuck off in the most ungrateful of ways (cause there a grateful way to say 'fuck off', you know) , and even the rest of the world who has to shift a little bit (or maybe a lot as was the case when george w. was born), and make some sort of sacrifice in order to make room for this new one. it just has to hurt. and then it happens, the contractions are over, and joy rules once again. we do this over and over and over. it's just what we do. and today, i made it. the pain didn't last forever. and i am here taking a deep breath of gratitude for the strength i found to make it through. and another one for the grandma's offer to take the kids for the afternoon. and another one for the trident for making such a comfortable spot for me to come and purge like this, and for having the best tea selection in town. and another one to the husband for sending me the video to remind me at the most perfect moment how much i love those little crazies. thank you.