Friday the thirteenth

Friday the thirteenth was an Alexander-like terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day (remember that book?) Owing to the heat and humidity, we were inside most of the day, apart from a walk in the cool of the morning. (Cool – right – it was 70% humidity and 80 degrees in the shade…) Therefore, the babies were being a little more crotchety than usual. What with my having terrible stomach cramps – no doubt from guzzling a pint of chocolate milk of the carton in lieu of breakfast right before the aforementioned walk in the boiling heat, and the babies being bored and whiny, the day was eternal. It took forever for 4:30 to come around, 4:30 being the magical hour when the responsible member of my baby-sitting force comes by. Well, let me tell you, 4:30 came and went, as did 5:30, the magical hour when my DH comes home from his office. No one showed up. By 6:00 we were all still alone and ready to explode into little baby and mama bits all over the kitchen.

“This is the day when I lose it,” I thought. “I am going crazy, right here and right now.” I am tired of screaming into a pillow and don’t want to slap my cheeks to calm myself down. I have started an at home micro-dermabrasion routine, and my skin’s kind of sensitive. I had no one to call; my sister has gone to Italy; my mother is on vacation; my husband was out of the office, but if you’d like to leave a message, I’ll call you right back. The close stay home mama-friend I have is busy with her very new baby, and bombarded with calls all day and doesn’t pick up anymore. I really can’t blame her; she needs not to talk. Notice how it’s always like that? If you want company, you may as well live on a deserted island. If you want solitude, your door is splintering under the crush of fans trying to get in. Calling my other nearby stay home mama-friend was not an option; we’d had little sort-of-fight few days ago, and I wasn’t sure how she’d welcome a weepy “I can’t take it anymore” sort of call. Besides, she has her own two boys home for the summer and baby-sits her two nieces as well.

The fight-lette was very weird. I was gassing on about how I am working on my novel, and how difficult it is to find time and peace and how maybe we could meet up, leave our respective children with our respective designated hitters (har har) and get together so I could write and she could read, or just be quiet together. She says – “ I find it hard to get time to do things too, but I don’t have someone clean my house or babysitters coming over on a regular basis.”

Ooooh boy. I could have said a whole lot, let me tell you! About how I try to fill up my days; about how isolated I still can be, despite my best efforts; about how I am struggling to be happy and cheery and fun for the babies and teach them and play with them and still have mental elbow room for my own thoughts; and that it’s still very hard. It’s easier than when it was all nursing, all day, all night, but mentally it’s not any easier. Nor do I expect life with twins to get any easier any time soon. I am making changes and making do with what I am can and still on the hunt for a nice lady I can count on to be there and help with the boys in the evenings, so I can go jogging, guilt free. If you know anyone- PLEASE let me know!!!

I know everyone sees things differently, and some must think that the house help and baby sitters mean I have opportunities galore to Get Things Done. I wonder if people know the “housekeeper” only does the floors, the bathroom and a little dusting and that she takes off after two and a half hours? I still do the shopping, laundry, bed changing, kitchen counter/kitchen table/general surface washing and wiping, refrigerator scrubbing, cabinet organizing, mail sorting, office tidying and everyday keeping up with a house myself. And the cooking too – don’t forget! The baby sitters…harrumph. Not only do they keep standing us up, they are really there for my DH’s benefit. They come at 4:30; I go run at 5:30 when he gets home. I run for about 45 minutes, then stretch, take a shower and eat something. Then they leave at 7:00. Not a whole lotta time for creative writing, is there?

However, as people always say – “It would be boring of everyone was the same.” Quite right you are there. I am absolutely not the same as anyone else I have ever met, and I have done a lot of traveling, and have met a lot of people in my time. You know what? I may need a little more space than you, because when I am “on duty”, I am “on double duty,” and it’s wringing me out. The house help and the baby-sitters (when they show up) are around to keep the head just above water.

Therefore, not only I am going to continue to sacrifice sleep to write, I am going to have my DH take care of his babies for two hours at a stretch or more every Saturday and Sunday so I can get Something Done; decompress, unclench, breathe, and write as well. Who knows, if I keep hanging out at Starbucks, I might also meet another nice person or two. W.L., I am coming to the play-group soon. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to stuff my shattered self into a Ziploc baggie, so as not to be too much of a mess.