The baby next to me is 1 month old.
I think I’ve noted before, how, as children age (or at least as my children age, from my point of view) each little phase dies and is gone forever. I know this is not true. These bits are still there inside my children, but that little baby next to me gives me an ache that has nothing to do with wanting another child. One thing I learned with my second, that first baby is gone which the child emerges, the second doesn’t replace it, or become it, but becomes something completely different.
My children still smell the same–in a way, I should say, that is deeper than milk, more in the gut than baby shampoo.
There are two cats–I may have mentioned one. She (or he), is very old and every bit of fur is tangled and knotted. This kitty has runny eyes and a runny nose. I keep going back to the kitty’s house to see the cat because I am very close to just taking him/her/it. But first, I suppose, I will talk to the “owner.” Last time I went, another cat wandered out to greet me. This is a black cat, certainly younger, with a large bald spot and scabbing on his/her/its back.
These cats have issues of discomfort easily solved.
Can you tell me what to do?
(I already know what I am going to do…shhh)
my children and some cats…do I wander?
Of course I do. And I give myself no quarter because at every moment there is my own private executioner, cutting me off at the knees.
Should I explain that to you or do you understand it implicitly? It just means that I will never be the parent I long to be. Never ever good enough for the perfect things my babies are. I cried during my son’s first week because, in part, I knew I would not live up to the perfection he was. (Of course, my hormonal fluctuations and lack of sleep likely had something to do with the weepiness. I was sure, during my daughter’s first week, that she and my son were going to die because he had croup and had to be rushed to the emergency room–hormones in part).
There you go…does that explain it?
And of course the cats. Whatever I do with the cats will never be the right thing. Never ever. It is just too bad I cannot be madder–it would help ease my own sense of failure, perhaps, or perhaps not.
At any rate. I must away, there are a million things to do and a million things to see and I am only just beginning, though I feel old enough to have been here before the earth was formed and naive enough to be one free of experience.