“Most women are good at
multi-tasking” I heard someone say recently.
I instantly felt less than.
Less than I used to be. Less than Most Women. Less than capable.
Less than the ideal.
I've
never quite felt that I lived up to the expectations of the
Sisterhood. I didn't have a career and raise a family at the same
time. I seem to be more of a sequential person. At least in the big
scheme of life.
But in
the day-to-day, I was ok multi-tasking the household and
child-raising needs. At least, so I thought with baby Meg, after a
couple of years of practice.
Then
baby Anna was born. I had to let go of my smug sense of my own
abilities, because things weren't always going as planned. And just
when I got into a rhythm, one of them would enter a new stage,
destabilizing us all.
But
when baby Andrew was born, that was it. Three children under the age
of five, and I was toast. “Oh well” – with a sheepish smile –
was my honest response whenever I dropped the ball: we were out of
coffee, I left the diaper bag at my mother-in-laws', or I fell asleep
on the couch instead of getting Meg to music class (I'm not revealing
anything else). I found that when I laughed at myself, people went
along with me and were quite forgiving. And this has been one of my
best life lessons: learning that in fact I'm not in control, and
there is a grace – and an ease – that comes with that.
Which
brings me to now. I can't write unless I can focus. And over the
last three weeks I have been the shore as wave after wave of endings
and beginnings have rolled in and dropped their treasures here:
yearbooks, diplomas, sweaty lacrosse clothes, newspaper clippings
about championship games, house presents from visitors, orthodontist
and haircut appointment cards, a program from a funeral, packing
lists, more laundry, a driver's permit and record of hours driven,
plane tickets, medical forms requiring doctors' signatures, more
laundry...
I've
been dreaming about writing. Literally. The words and stories are
in me. The season is changing, and I want to smell it and hear it
sing and savor it all again through the pencil in my hand. Soon the
house will quiet as Meg and Anna and Andrew will all be at Wabun for
the summer (see post on 4/25/13 Chocolate bannock:our
parenting secret weapon). But
until then I am in the joyful and crazy tumult of transitions. I want
to focus long enough to write a blog post, but I also want to be with
my kids before they leave. Torn between two desires, I find myself
just now on the couch for a few stolen minutes. But wait, I just
remembered, I forgot to get the laundry off the line before the dew
soaks it all over again...