You see that beautiful print? I got it in the mail today. Elizabeth sent it to me.
You know what happened when I opened it at the post office?
I cried.
And you know what else?
It's true.
Thank-you so much, Elizabeth.
Big breath.
I just spent about eight hours with Owen and although this morning I wasn't sure if I was going to make it, I find myself now with a house that looks like a hurricane hit it and a healed-up heart. Mostly. Some things don't heal. Some sorrows come and build nests and raise their young. Oh well. You can step around them sometimes. You can.
As to the house- well, I'll clean it up. No big deal.
Owen was just the sweetest, most loving, giving, kissing, hugging, funny boy today you can imagine. Every time I asked for a kiss he gave me one. He shared his foods with me. Except for the dog food. He knows better than that.
Yes. He ate a piece of dog food. Call HRS. And I'll tell them that the dogs ate his oatmeal so it works out perfectly. He just loves dog food so much. And it's not like it's made of actual dogs you know. Before I put the dishes of dog food away when he gets here, he always makes a break for it and steals a piece or two. I usually pry them out of his mouth but this morning I let him crawl under the table and enjoy a kibble. One.
It's like the chickens eating the cat food. And then I found out that cat food is just what molting chickens need. So there. Maybe growing toddlers need dog food. Who knows?
Not me.
But I do know that although I'm tired, I am content. It was a good day and a successful one in that he is not only still alive, he is whole and unmarked by injury. Taking care of Owen is so much more than physically demanding. It is mental, too. Staying one step ahead of him is impossible. I don't think I mentioned here that the other day he handed me a hack saw that he found in the laundry room. By the handle. Thank god. I was right there, too, folding clothes. And my laundry room isn't even a room. It's as big as a closet. A small closet. I have no idea why a hack saw was in there, but it was and he found it.
He finds things that I can't even identify. Random bits of plastic which seem to have no discernible use, mostly. The other day I set him up with some clothes pins and a plastic bottle to put the clothes pins in. He brought me the metal spring off one of them. The boy pried the damn clothespin apart and brought me the spring!
Oh yeah.
Every moment another small heart attack of crisis and tragedy averted. This can be exhausting.
But oh, we have such fun! He is learning to pretend. We pretend to eat food from pictures in books. He is getting the concept. I pretend to eat some and make a tongue-clicking noise and then hand him some of the pretend food. We especially like pretend doughnuts. He brought me an empty plastic vinegar jug today that I use to water plants with and made the clicking sound and handed it to me. I thanked him and pretended to drink from it. He was delighted!
When he got here this morning, it was chilly and he had no long sleeves packed in his diaper bag so I wrapped one of my old moth-eaten cashmere sweaters around him and rolled up the sleeves and pinned it. He looked like a tiny wizard, down on his luck.
Or a guy in a straight-jacket. Whatever, he was warm and cozy.
Later on I changed him into a cloth diaper and a pair of red socks. Another great outfit!
There are Pearl and Zeke, trying to steal his energy bar from him. What is an energy bar, you ask? Go to Costco and find some. They are delicious! We all think so around here.
He also helped his Pop-Pop eat lunch. He mostly took care of the tomatoes for him. He does love a tomato, that boy.
And I got a lovely e-mail from Kathleen this morning. She is feeling better and she pointed out that she has had an incurable, possibly lethal disease for twenty years and THAT hasn't killed her yet. Hep C. How can you fight that sort of truth? You can't. She went out yesterday and bought new pants because all of her old ones are too big on her. Damn chemo. But in buying new pants, she was saying a small (or was it huge?) fuck-you to her diagnosis. And she is planning her birthday party which is in two weeks and which we are going to have here. So all of that makes me happy.
And, well, I don't know. Something turned in me. I still feel the pull of gravity too strongly to feel normal and the thought of attending the events I'm going to be attending in the next few days makes me anxious but dammit, I'm going to go!
All right. I have to clean up this house and get the diapers on the line and take the trash. But here- let me give you something that might make you laugh. It's a new very short film by FC Rabbath called Pirates, The Musical.
It's not creepy at all. In fact, it's very silly.
"Freddie," I asked, "Who wrote the music?"
"Oh, I did," he said.
I hope his brain doesn't explode some day. I worry about that.
All right, y'all. It's Friday. I hope you have a good one.
Let's all try to lighten up and let our sorrows sink to somewhere where they can't get to us. And remember- every thing is going to be okay.
Love...Ms. Moon
