Note to readers: i am a moody person, but intended to keep the blog fairly up-beat. however, i like this piece, and i think it’s worth sharing. i was never much of a private person anyways.
the day is spent focussing on things to do – doctor apt, bank, curriculum, chores, park day, dinner.
The only one who tries to keep me company as I work is the middle one – bipolar, autistic and tourettes, he looks over my shoulder, not only shifting from foot to foot in a little dance, but his arms are going too, and his fists clench and unclench, and his head does a little roll. its not a happy dance, it’s just what his body does. and there’s a countermelody under it, i hear it, it says, “who will love me? who will spend time with me? I’m bored and lonely.” And it feels so sad; i’m the only one who lets myself hear it, the only one who tries to answer the call. I wonder if this one will ever stand on his own feet as a productive and valued member of society. sometimes, feeling that breathing down my neck, i would rather be alone
and then the 6 yo, still sick with a sinus infection, is spitting on kids at the park and running in circles around the dinner table. And the eldest is yelling at me because i didn’t spend enough time celebrating her first paycheck before I started talking about something else . . . . and then the husband, cranky from a lousy day at a crappy job, yells at me while tucking me in to bed.
and i sob under the covers after asking him to leave. and i’m so alone and so tired
times like these, an old Streisand song comes to my head, tho i think i’ve mangled the words over the years:
songbird sings from the heart
each word can tear you apart
i sing, you sing along
you find your life in my song
when you need the strength to carry on
you’ve got me to turn to
my song sets you free, but who sings to me?
i’m all alone now. who sings for songbird?
its mom’s job to give and cry and do it again. this is my job. this is what i do.
but after laying angry in bed, i finally get up. I speak to husband about not taking his bad day out on us, jot down this rough draft, and return to bed for a better tuck in from a husband who does love me. And try to rest up for another day.