My aim is simple survival, and the survival of those for whom I am responsible.
I've been watching critters, again, this week, for my best friend. She's gone on vacation with her mother, so I'm feeding, playing with, and generally looking out for the interests of Stretch, Dolce, Rizzo, and then Eddie. Plus I'm the one who provides the bulk of the cuddle time for the cats who live in Momsporchistan, Furfur and Maus. And, now, of course, there is the yellow Lab, Clyde. Most of the time, Clyde has Mom or Dad to follow around... I don't think there's ever more than a half-hour span at a time when he will be left alone. And then there are all the beasties in and around my own house, who want food and attention and occasionally other things (like another of those toy mousies I brought home in that twelve-pack).
Plus, my demons follow me everywhere, and some days it takes everything I have to keep from allowing them to convince me to just give up. It's not something I usually share with family and friends, though, because they have enough to worry about. So I battle my way out of bed each day and concentrate on other things, like, f'rinstance, blogging, to make the noise a little less pronounced. It's getting easier, these days, but not so as to make life a bowl of roses, or a bed of cherries, or whatever.
But I have it easy, compared to my extra sister (not related by birth, but by closeness of our families over the years). She has a twenty-month son and a preschool daughter who can both be described as "spirited". These are wonderful kids. Their mom is a truly wonderful parent. I can not imagine myself showing the patience she shows, so much of the time, with the noise, and the demands that little ones make on a parent.
It seems that even the best of parents occasionally lose patience, though. She came to lunch at her mother's house, where an army was gathered, and managed to confess a sin of motherhood -- she lost her temper and... well, details are not important. There was no great sin involved, except the normal sin of seriously wishing something unfortunate could happen to her daughter. After making this admission to three women who are grandmothers, she was in tears, mostly of frustration and fear. And then she heard the truth: every mother feels that way. My own mother used to mutter that she should have drowned up when we were puppies... and I know full well there were days when she truly meant it. Some mothers even act on that impulse. They're not all bad women -- some of them simply got lost. I'd have never been able to control my implosions at all when I was young, and so I made certain my daughter was not raised at my ground zero. The good parents, like my extra sister, call a friend or a relative and find an alternate release.
And then the peaceful, laughing moments are so much better, by comparison.
We're noticing that the important things aren't generally those which run smoothly, like a ski lift up the side of a steep slope. The best part of our lives, the things we most cherish, tend to develop in staggered stages, like legs of a road full of switchbacks. The apparent reversals are not necessarily the worst things in the world, but are sudden, abrupt turns to keep us from going over a precipice. We want to throttle the little wretch who wakes us every morning at three, who piddles on the good chair, who steals the good guest towels to wipe muddy feet, who throws a tantrum because... just because. We want to drop kick them from here to eternity.
But when we truly value ourselves, we turn away from the anger and the fear, follow the next pathway up. The things, the people we care for, come along more easily. And the effort we've put into the climb makes the day's end more treasured for its results.
I hear the view is spectacular from the top of the mountain. I expect we'll get there, someday.
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