Thursday, July 9, 2009

Fly, Babies. Spread Your Wings And Fly.


I am so agitato today. Agitato is a word that Kinky Friedman uses in his books. Mr. Moon and I use it a lot, especially to describe when we've had too much coffee.

I am agitato today, not because of too much coffee, but because Jessie is going off to Jamaica where I can't protect her. I am agitato because Lily is pregnant and I can't protect her on that journey. I am agitato because May is in pain and because there is so much she has to bear and I can't make it all better. I am agitato because Hank, although very much a grown-up man will face things in his life that I can't imagine and I can't help him with.

I am agitato because I am me, and I can't help but want to control everything, while at the same time, knowing I can't even control what goes on inside me.

And all of this agitation makes me think that if I don't finish cleaning my house and make a good, healthy supper for my husband that the world will fall apart. That I will have failed, failed, failed. I know I am displacing my agitation. I know I am taking things I can't control and trying to force control on something I can. My house. My dinner.

I bought two candles at the Winn Dixie the other day. One a Virgin of Guadalupe candle and one a plain red one. I wish I had bought a white one to burn for clarity, for soothing. I don't pray, I don't believe, but I light candles to make wishes visible.

I drain the pickles. I boil water and pour it over them in the crock. Tomorrow I will make the pickling solution- the vinegar, so much sugar, spices. The real magic will begin. I mop the floors, I dust the furniture, I oil my grandfather's rocking chair. I pot two plants to put on a porch.

I touch totems- my grandfather's rocking chair, the crock I make my pickles in, my skillets, my pictures, my computer, the dirt.

When Hank and May were little and they had to go (GOT to go!) to their father's every Monday and Tuesday nights, I had to learn to separate from them by pretending I did not have children two days a week. It was the only way. Otherwise I would have lost my mind.
Guess what? It didn't work. I did lose my mind.
I still do that- when they leave to go off, whether for a week or a month or time I don't know the number of minutes, hours, days, months, years in, I lose my shit for a time. I think, "I can't bear this," and then I do.

But something inside of me goes a little crazy.
I clean. I make supper. I cry. I berate myself for such foolishness.

Why did I give them wings if I didn't want them to fly?

I want them to fly. All of my children. I want them to fly as high and as far as they can go. I know I can't protect them forever. I know that. I even know they can protect themselves because they are so strong, so amazing, so smart. I know that.

But that part of me that reached for them at the moment of their birth doesn't know it. That part of me that drew them to my breast doesn't know it. That part of me that watched them as they slept to make sure they were breathing doesn't know it.

Is this normal?

It is for me. Obviously, it is for me.

19 comments:

  1. My mother, I think, had to let go of me a little bit because she felt so strongly for me. Part of her had to turn off, as you put it, forget she had a daughter.

    When I moved to DC for a few years, she lost her mind but she never told me til after the fact. In recent years, even though i am back now, I feel her pulling away from me in order to ...I don't know. It's almost as though she's protecting herself. But sometimes I wonder if that woman who felt so much love for me, her only baby, still loves me the way she did.

    It's funny too - I just posted a blog, and then lit a white candle. Same, same sometimes - you and me.

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  2. My guess is your love for them makes their flight that much more successful. Knowing you have somewhere to land can really take a load off and give you a boost.

    And now for my rendition of Wind Beneath My Wings...

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  3. You should see what I do to my spice cabinet, sock drawer and all important paperwork and documents when I'm agitato!

    Sometimes, I think a vat of white wax couldn't set me free from it all.

    I've been having a hard time adjusting to Logan's absence again. Hard to see him come because I know how hard it will be to let him go.

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  4. I like the idea of you lighting candles. Light one for me?

    I just read May's post, and boy, oh boy, you DO have smart and strong and amazing children. And they have a smart and strong and amazing Mama.

    It's hard to know how crazy we are, even as we can't keep ourselves from being that way. Love to you, my lady Moon.

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  5. Oh good lord! Mama! I love you!
    Now, has DTG told you about our newest adventure plan?

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  6. SJ- I pray not to hold my children back. I pray to let them go with joy. Candles have been lit here, too.

    Steph- I know. I am a cliche.

    Ms. Trouble- Well, all we can do is try.

    Ginger- Candle lit. Yes. It's hard to know.

    Miss Maybelle- No. What's up? What has the king decreed?

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  7. Nooooo!!! My comment was the cliche. Good lord, woman.

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  8. Steph- Let's face it, darling. I AM a walking cliche.

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  9. If you start telling us

    1) that everything happens for a reason, or
    2) when God(dess) closes a door, s/he opens a window, or finally
    3) the rainbow always comes after the storm

    THEN you'll be a walking cliche. But now - oh, hell no.

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  10. You are your own worst critic, and at once their best friend - your babies, from what I can tell in all their blogging, those who do, know that you love them and will do anything for them.

    Those precious bonds were broken for my mum when she decided to let her new husband forbid family in the house anymore. As much as she loved us, her reasoning at the time was that it was HER turn to spend with her husband, even at the family's expense.

    She really did lose her mind, starting about 5 years ago, and is now in a home with dementia.

    You are fine, Mrs Moon. Keep up the love. They will fly back.

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  11. SJ- Yeah. I'll be saying that stuff when a door opens and rainbow pigs fly out my butt. For a reason. After a storm.
    Thank-you for reminding me.

    Laura Lee- Thank-you. I'm so sorry about your mama. What a sorrowfulness.

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  12. Now Ms. Moon, you knock that off.

    Come over and meet my husband.

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  13. I think it's normal, but who am I to judge normal...? In fact who is anyone! Here's a cliche for ya, "The only normal people are ones you don't know very well". I happen to believe we are all twisted in our own special ways. And when you find a mate or a friend, you've found someone who's neurosis fit with yours in some (hopefully) harmonious or familiar way.

    Normal schmormal. You rock.

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  14. I burned a candle while my grandmother was dying, and all the next day, to light her way.

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  15. Maggie- I figured so.

    DTG- What a great plan! I must discuss this with her and begin my preparations. If she'll have me.

    Mwa- Exactly.

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  17. I messed up on that other comment so deleted it.

    Agitato is an excellent word for that feeling.

    I used to be that way and managed to deal with it for the most part just in time to start all over again with my grandchildren. So it's normal for me, too.

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.