Tuesday, June 10, 2014

don't fix it


This morning it's cold and rainy and the house smells like oil for some reason we can't figure out.  We had people in, even called them after their work when it still smelled so badly.  I woke up in the middle of the night last night (Milo next to me, Ben on the couch, Elliott whimpering) and the smell hit me like a wall.  I got up and walked around and wrung my hands a little, but right now it's something that no one can do anything about.  It just exists.  This oil smell that reminds me how little I really understand about how my house works.

Milo just woke up to come hang out with me.  He has a black eye, from a train track that hit him at school.  I think he was pulling it from someone, got it away from them, and went flying backwards.  He hit himself with it, and it was just a little mark until days later.  Now it looks like he got into the eye shadow- purple and green right below the eyebrow.  He says it doesn't hurt.  Thinking about his black eye reminds me how little I really understand about his day, most days.  I'm not there.  I can look at pictures of the year, read the daily list of facts about eating and sleeping, check his sticker chart for having a dry diaper.  But I don't really know what he says to his friends, or how much he interacts with Elliott, or what his routine looks like.  I have to wait for summer for that.

My personality never stops wanting, and I'm constantly wondering about other situations I could be in.  I only recently stopped describing myself as someone who was planning my next life.  I want to do every single thing that can be done, so it doesn't surprise me that some days I want to spend every waking second with my two greatest accomplishments, and other days I want to be miles away from the screaming kids that live in my house.  I never, ever felt sad coming back from maternity leaves.  For mother's day, my gift was being away from my children for an entire day.  But lately, I've felt uncomfortable about being away from them.  I'm not sure why.

Another thought hit me yesterday, while I was calculating the boring purchases I needed to make (baby gate to replace a wrecked one, carbon monoxide detector that was not related to and yet incredibly related to the weird oil smell) and weighing their importance against my next paycheck, and thinking about how the daycare checks would stop over the summer, and how much easier things will be when ...we have a bigger house, ...we don't have to pay so much for daycare, ...we eventually (hopefully) live closer to family, ...I'm home with the boys this summer.  And then wisdom hit me in a scary, clarifying slap: no it won't.  Nothing will be easier.  When we live in a bigger house, our mess will expand to fit the space.  When we have more money, our expenses will shoot up.  We'll always spend all of it.  We'll always want more.

I have to operate under the assumption that right now is absolutely as good as it is ever going to get.  I have to be comfortable that I'm leaving Milo and Elliott in good hands during working hours, get used to pinching pennies or using the credit card when we need a baby gate and there's no other way, and stop wishing away hours, even during the weird vortex of the last two weeks of school.  I have to trust that the oil smell will go away, or it won't, and then a combination of Google and neighborly advice and the phone numbers stuck to the furnace will guide me.  I don't understand how any of this works, but it's working, and right now, I'm not willing to drive myself crazy to figure out why.

2 comments:

  1. Oh, I feel like you're in my head. I have thoughts like this all the time. I hope I can have that attitude of the best is right now. Thanks for posting this. I wish we were neighbors.

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    1. That would be preeetttty sweet. Plus we'd both be off school! Although I admit I'm living vicariously through your Instagram feed :)

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