Okay, first of all, I’ve realized I don’t read enough blogs. This is a problem–I’ve maxed out my computer time as it is. The reason I realized this is that I was trying to think of my top five thinking blogs, and I realized that I wanted to nominate EVERY BLOGGER I KNOW. Because you’re all my blogging friends, and I love you all. I don’t read enough blogs to have that ‘objective’ thing going…so choosing my five “Thinking Bloggers” is killing me. I’m tired, I’m irritable, I’ll do it tomorrow. (But I WILL do it–I promise!!!.)
And other than that…there is continuous work wierdness going on–maybe, when I don’t want to pick up the computer and throw it across the room when I think about it, I’ll tell you all, but right now it’s the only laptop I’ve got so I’ll brood about it until I can really make it sing.
Last night we were out late on a school night–hence the tiredness and irritability. We were doing one of those ‘time-share’ seminars…it’s actually pretty funny. About two years ago, Mate’s dad gave us a timeshare as a gift. I was like, “Has he met us?” because in order to use those things you have to plan your vacations months ahead of time instead of, like, hours ahead of time and I was sure we’d never get our collective shit together enough to make this really generous gift work. But now the one group met the other group and they’ve decided to kiss their timeshare owners asses (this is my interpretation…I’m sure the shark, uhm, I mean timeshare rep can describe it better) and anyway, I think we’ve come up with an arrangement by which we can take the whole famn damily out on the road once in a while and leave the mortgage to rot in peace. Totally groovy, actually. Or it will be when we get the hell out of dodge in an airplane and NOT the Dodge, actually.
So I’m tired today, too tired, in fact to have written this poem, which I wrote yesterday. (Dueant, god of compassion, that was the stinkiest seque in aeons, forgive me.) Anyway, I was modelling writing images to show a scene for my sophomores, and this is what I came up with. Since it’s sort of a response to Louiz’s question, “How do you manage?” I thought it would be good to post.
At the 5:30 am dark, the three year old makes
A worm burrow into the covers,
Plants his radiator body next to mine, and cries,
“See ducks mom, see ducks!”
He wants to go to the zoo.
I want to sleep ’til my alarm goes off–at 6:30.
At 6:00 am, my daughter comes in, yellow light in the bathroom
Teeth, hair, make-up,
“Mom did you wash the thing, the only thing I own worth wearing ever and always today?”
“Yes, now let me sleep ’til 6:30.”
At 6:10 my son comes in, yellow light in the bathroom, teeth, no hair, I wish he’d brush hair, but noooooo, it’s all a mess,
Steals my favorite sweatshirt from the pile by the bed.
“Need money, mom.”
“It’s in my purse.”
“Did you sign my planner.”
It’s on the table, go away.”
At 6:20, the baby cries.
I get her, get a bottle, change her diaper, sit on the couch
Glaring at the DOODLEPOBS through muck-gritty eyes
And kissing a soft neck.
From my bedroom, I hear the DJ’s cheery chirp.
My alarm’s gone off.
It’s day.
