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March 05, 2005

I'm in love with the ordinary

It's 9:00 on Friday night and I'm standing in the card aisle in Walmart looking for a birthday card for my niece. Why, I don't know exactly; I forget her birthday every year and by now it is way too late to send one. I'm not the best aunt. When I think of my skills as mother, cousin, aunt, "benign indifference" comes to mind. My first husband said to me, toward the end of our time together, "you are maternal in a completely non-nurturing way," and even though I have tried very hard to prove him wrong with my children, I do see his point. It takes a lot of effort to tend somebody so they grow well.

I drift down the aisle, look at the "love cards" section and say to the woman next to me, "Where are the cards that say 'you broke my heart and I think you suck'?" I've startled her. "Excuse me?" I'm too embarrassed to do anything but smile and move on. Yikes.

It's raining; I run to the car with my cart. There's an accident on Route 1 that has traffic stopped in both directions; I have to squeak by and take the long way home. Naturally when I get there I realize that yes, I needed laundry detergent and 3-way bulbs after all. Well, tomorrow is another day.

After I put everything away and give Spike the first-ever "cat treat" of his life, I check on the kids. Him first. "Moo. Moomoomoo." Jesus, does that game ever end? And what's with all the cows? I remember just then that I dreamed about cows the night before. "I'm playing with French people. I actually think I might be losing weight because I forget to eat while I play." Okay, great.

Into the next room. Earlier this evening when she and I picked up our usual argument I snapped at her, exasperated, "I can't make him come home. He's not coming home." Yeah. Non-nurturing, c'est moi. Now she's watching Full House, her new favorite show. No mothers in sight in any of the episodes, but lots and lots of little girls and daddies. Nine is not a subtle age. Oh, sweetie. She is wrapped up, and rapt. I let her be, and tiptoe upstairs.

A lot of what I like to do lately involves tiptoeing and sneaking. Like right now. I turn off the lights in the livingroom and the library and as silently as I can creep upstairs to my bedroom, close the bedroom door. Nobody knows I'm up here. I look at the bed. Clean sheets, nice plump pillows. Come on, you know you want it. I undress, pull back the covers, slide in. Mmmmmm. We all have our little addictions. I miss you like mad right now, but maybe it's just reflex. I stretch, turn over, look at your side of the bed. Put out a hand, close my eyes. Full house, indeed.

Posted by JudyLa at 06:00 AM | Comments (0)