FYI: This post is like a week and a half old, so some of this stuff is outdated, but I’m sure I’ll get around to a new update sometime. (Yes, it takes me a week and half to write a single blog post. Other than 30 second bursts on the toilet, I don’t get a lot of alone time.)
Oh, hi! It’s me, the woman who has two small children and almost forgot there are other things that constitute life besides whining and crying and poop.
Like medical bills and the knot in my stomach that arrises when I think about having to pay to get my uterus scraped out so I’d stop bleeding. LIKE IT WAS A RELAXING PEDICURE. We owe over $2,500 in medical expenses since having Violet. (Thank GOD we only stayed one night in the hospital!) A lot of different kinds of people have told me they read this blog. Some people shock me by telling me they read this blog. They consistently come back even though I say bad words and talk about my vagina AS IF IT WERE A HOLY BODY PART. So I know I’ll get some people rolling their eyes WAY up into the back of their heads when I get on this particular soap box, but they probably don’t have Vanderbilt Medical Financial Services calling me every week, so they can just roll their eyes back into the forward position so they can see to click the little “x” to close this tab. Resume soapbox. It just really IRKS me that we in America are the ONLY western country not to have universal healthcare. I support the Affordable Care Act (otherwise known as Obamacare) (otherwise known as Satancare) because it’s a step in the right direction, but it is NOT the answer. France and Italy have the highest health ratings according to the World Health Organization, and they have universal healthcare (otherwise known as your taxes pay for it) (otherwise known as SATAN RULES HERE!). So if we see that it can mean excellent health, why are we so afraid of this? Why don’t we want our taxes TO TAKE CARE OF OUR PEOPLE? Is it that we think if the government leaders control it, it’ll be shit? I mean I get you; no one wants to walk into a hospital and have it feel like the DMV. But just because there are some government organizations that blow ass, doesn’t mean they all have to. It doesn’t even mean they all DO. We accept some socialized programs: police force, fire departments, public education, but not others, like everyone in our country being able to afford to take care of themselves. If everyone suddenly had to pay for their kids to go to school there would be cries of outrage from middle to low income households who can’t afford to pay tuition. Upper class people who don’t want their children mixing with the riff-raff can and do send their kids to private schools where they learn how to be snobs. (Just kidding; I went to private school.) (Oh, wait, everyone there was a snob.) So what’s the problem with doing this same thing with our healthcare? We could have universal healthcare, covered by our (yes, somewhat raised) taxes. We could do away with insurance companies except in the case of the rich people who don’t want to share their respirators with poor people’s respirators. If you really wanted to you could still pay for insurance and be seen at ritsy hospitals who put mints on their pillows and turn poor bleeding children away.
Like the fact that our 1000 square foot house is too small for a stomping toddler AND a crawling baby, which is what we are about to have. We decided to remodel, but then we found out that we can’t get a loan because we cosigned a loan with my brother, who then didn’t make his car payments on time. THANK YOU, DOING-THE-RIGHT-THING-GODS. We’d do it ourselves but we don’t know what we’re doing, and it would be a tad counterproductive if we ended up knocking the whole house down instead of just one wall or flooding our house by taking the plumbing out the wrong way. So we’re stuck in a house limbo, not sure what we’re going to do and hoping Violet stays immobile until we can figure it out, which isn’t looking likely since she rolled over and over and over the other day like she was a pig on a spit, then looked up at me like, YAY! DID YOU SEE THAT!? (Yeah, I saw it, kid. You’re living in the Ergo from now on.)
Like summer drama camps. I have been camped out at this desk in the fellowship hall of a Methodist Church for the last three weeks, for five hours a day. Today is actually the last day, and if you can hear the joyous celebration, that just proves how loud it sounds coming from my head. Don’t get me wrong; I believe in what I’m doing. STC is a great company and they’re offering kids the chance to belong to this incredible community and discover the wonder that is theatre, but I’m just tired. One thing I’ve learned is how glad I am to be a stay-at-home-mom. There are days when I truly miss my career and living in an adult world, but these last three weeks have absolutely affirmed my decision to stay home while my kids are small. I miss my house being clean and dinner not being a hassle. I miss Noah (Violet comes with me to camp, thank God). I miss the peace of having an entire day to do everything I need to do to make my home and my family happy. I think all this has just made me acutely aware of how important my job as a mom actually is. No, I don’t get paid, and in our society that is the measure of how well you’re doing. No matter how great a mom I am today, I won’t get a raise or a bonus or even a pat on the back. And I do succumb to feelings of inadequacy all the time. (Especially when people ask me what I do, and I tell them I’m a stay-at-home-mom. Then their eyes glaze over and I can see them thinking, “Well, I don’t really need to know the plot of General Hospital, so I guess we have nothing further to talk about.”) But if there is one thing of which I’m certain, it’s that NOTHING is more important than raising these two people. Who knows what they could do and who they could be if they know they have the support of me, their mother! It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever done, and as passionate as I am about the theatre, I’m looking forward to focusing on Mommyhood full-time again. At least for now.
Like marriage. I can hardly remember what a date feels like, and while one of our favorite things is going to the movies, we haven’t been to one since December. And (those who are Holy, if you’re even still reading this, turn away now lest thine eyes retain sinfulness) I sure do miss having sex. It’s not like it would be easy to resume intimacy even if I HADN’T been bleeding for three straight months, but as it is, I wonder if I’ll ever get my mojo back. And when we two stumble into bed at the end of our long days and find ourselves in the horizontal position, we barely have energy to roll towards one another to kiss and whisper goodnight before one or both of us are already snoring. On top of that, we got this king-sized bed before we had Violet, reasoning that with two kids and two grownups in bed, we would need more space. But now Noah insists we take him back into his own room to rock him and give him a cup of milk when he wakes up at night and refuses to just LIE STILL between us, so the king-sized bed is somewhat useless and it keeps us from touching each other all night long. In fact, when Violet wakes me up, I find I’m about a mile away from Lance, who’s hugging the edge of this massive mattress probably out of habit. It seems we go all day without seeing one another because I’m out doing a dozen things (or I’m at drama camp) and he’s working, and then it’s a mad rush to get dinner ready and on the table by 7, a chaotic mess of eating and bouncing a baby and trying to convince a whining Noah to stay at the table a bit longer and usually one or both kids has a poop blowout before the end of dinner and then it’s baths and bedtimes, which we do separately, in separate bedrooms no less, by 8. Then when Noah finally gives up and goes the hell to sleep around 9:30 or so, Lance zombie-walks into our bedroom to plummet, face first, onto the bed, where I am after having finally nursed and bounced and rocked and patted Violet to sleep, and then we go through the aforementioned barely kissing goodnight routine, so we end up barely seeing each other at night either. We’ve talked about the fact that an eon ago we used to sleep late on weekends, have a casual brunch whenever we woke up, do some shopping before dinner and maybe catch a movie, lazily head out for drinks afterwards, then come back to our apartment and have sex on whatever surface we most desired before drifting peacefully off to sleep. We’ve also talked about how much we hate those assholes that we used to be.
There are other things too, like friendships that are slowly drifting away because I can’t ever answer an email or my phone and new friendships that are blossoming with the sole basis being that we both have children, and I could throw in my list of ways to hide the fact that you haven’t had a shower in five days (headbands, washing crucial areas with a washcloth, reapplying mascara, shampooing bangs only, etc.), but you’re mostly updated, Reader and I’ll be signing off now. Stay tuned for more regularly scheduled posts from KID-DESH. (Whoa. I had two cups of coffee today and it enabled me to make my very own pun. I’M ON FIRE, Y’ALL.)