Saturday, January 28, 2012

“Destiny is what you are supposed to do in life. Fate is what kicks you in the ass to make you do it.” 
 Henry Miller

Earlier than I should be awake

How is it that my life is always torn between joy and struggle? Or that I'm often laughing while tasting the tears that streak my face? Oh wait. That is life. I'll take it over complacency.

I wrote that as my status on Fb the other day.  You know, it's so true... this day I wanted to put my face down and just cry but I've got three little babies looking at me all day so I have to keep going, all that plaster dust from the weekends activities... and I'm cleaning and playing the same sweet song over and over... trying to not feel the despair of of not enough money, not enough energy and pasta again for dinner...then I look over and on the chair is little Alice Rose, looking for all the world like a Lost Boy, grubby and disheveled, swaying and singing, the sunlite falling full on her funny upturned face and I swing her up into my arms and dance and dance around in the kitchen in the burst of unexpected winter sun.
And the two boys come running in, grab my legs and we sway and we sing and they don't care it I'm out of tune and that the floor is dirty and that it is pasta again.  They are filling up my house with love.

Sure, it takes a village.

Do you ever just think you need to say: thank you thank you thank you  and hope that karma or god or fate or whatever you believe will spread it to ears of those who should hear it?  I think it right now.  And also,
 I love you I love you I love you -- if you think there is a chance I mean you in any of this, well you are right.
You've heard, we all have-- it takes a village to raise a child.  Now you're gonna roll your eyes or sigh or stop reading because you've heard this already.  Well, why don't you listen.  Yeah , it takes a village to raise a child, it takes mama friends and daddy friends and childless friends and teenagers and other kids to raise a child... but thats not what my thank yous and i love yous are for.  Because you know what else takes a village, we do each one of us, no one lives in void.  No not you, tough sexy artist guy, not you awesome stylish childless woman, not you hippy mama, suburban mother, you somewhere in between mama.  No we need each other.  It takes a village to raise me.  Me at almost 38, I'm on FB , on blogs, on the phone, text, posting, meeting at coffee shops, bars, front porches... Ineed you to tell me what shampoo you use, what to do with my baby's cough, that I'm okay, that you like my top, that you care what I think about politics and dinner and that book and where I bought my jeans and if the world is crashing down around us.  I need you, you need me... pretend you don't and you are lying. 
It takes a village to raise a child, to embrace the adult and someday to lead us to the next step, what ever you believe comes After.
Lately my village is sending a lot love my way, it is coming sprinkled like pixie dust thru the invisible lines of the internet and in the irl voices of friends.  So you know who you are, my village.  Thank you.  I love you.

(three of these are mine, two are from my village-- so sorta mine, too)

I have 5 kids

Yes, thats right, I have 5 kids.  I can see your eyebrows go up.  I can see all your pre-conceived notions kick in as well as my paranoia, so here we go...
No I'm not Christian. (as a friend once said, Jesus figured into conception only as an expletive)
No I don't home school. (no offense to those who do, but hell, no.)
Yes they all have the same BabyDaddy. (And would it be any of your damned business if they didn't?)
No I don't wear demin skirts, unless the they are short.
I don't have Jesus hair.  I have awesome hair.
Yes I know how IT happened.
No I don't think thats funny.
No I didn't use invitro.  (And would it be any of your damned business if I did?)
Yes I've heard of overpopulation.
Yes I work.  I work and work and work.  Plus I have jobs, too.
Here's what I can tell you.  I love my kids.  I love my husband.  I love our small and untidy house that we are slowly adding to until it becomes The Burrow, I don't mind being compared to the Weasley's.
I like to drink.  I'd like a drink right now.  In fact quite often I would like to be far away from my darling, clever, loud children with a drink.  Drunk in a dark bar. Or having sex.  Or both.  Which could possibly explain the 5 children...
I consider myself lazy, selfish and self centered. And I try to improve on those things although most people don't see that way. Well, they don't see me as lazy, I'm not.  I am most certainly both arrogant and extremely insecure and talk to myself, often in the third person.... probably comes from reading too many novels.  I yell.  I lose my temper.  I love frozen pizza and will happily feed it to my kids.  And while I am very healthy food conscious, I will bribe my kids with Dum-Dum lollys.  No problem.
Being a mother defines almost everything I do.  It defines my day and what I wear, it changed the way I write and photograph and speak and, god knows, sleep.  It is not kittens and hearts and sweet white haired crumpled faced grannies on Mother's Day cards.  It is TigerLove and metaphorical revolvers tucked in the waistband of my skinny jeans(thats right, mama of 5 and I wear skinny jeans), it is wanting to run away to Mexico with either my imaginary love slave Raoul or Jon Stewart  (it varies, depending on my mood), it is anger and fatigue and sheer apathy sometimes.  It is the most remarkable love, love that is that TigerLove, ferocious and destructive.  Love that is the revolver, because yes I will die for them but watch out 'cause I will pull that gun out with a steady hand and steady aim if I need too.  They are mine, my blood, my skin, my heart beat to carry, it was my breath that panted to birth them. They are mine to guide and protect. Mine to accept that with every second they change and move away from me til the day they leave my home... but even then, mine in my heart, mine to protect and love and accept until I die and maybe even after. 
So yeah I have tattoos and yeah, I like sex and wine and say fuck entirely too much.  But I am a good mama.  Maybe I don't look the way you think a mama of 5 should look or act or speak.  But I am a mama of 5 and I kick some serious child rearing ass.