Sweet Disarray

K has been inconsolable all day. He wants to be held all the time. If he's not being held, he's on the floor writhing and crying and jamming his little fingers into tiny fists. It breaks my heart and at the same time, I'm exhausted. I'm sick too and my body is tired and part of me just wants to lie on the couch and let him wail.

But I don't. Well, not for more than I have to to make lunch or go pee or pick up something off the floor (he's too heavy now for me to bend down while holding him). As I type, he's strapped to my chest, sleeping, finally. I'm standing by the side of the bed with my laptop propt up on pillows. I've been standing for the last hour and will probably (hopefully) have to stand for another hour. If I sit down, he wakes up.

I'm complaining, I know, and this blog is not supposed to be about complaining. It's supposed to be about pretty, happy things or at least thoughtful, considered things. Not tired complaints.

But here we are.

My back hurts.

I'm tired.

I'm sad that my baby feels so bad.

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C and I started making a double batch of sugar cookies this morning. We've had the TV on non-stop since they've been sick, but C is feeling a lot better and I wanted to give him something fun today even though he can't yet go outside. He loves to bake with me and was so excited when I suggested we make some cookies. I let him open the box of butter and lay the sticks out to soften, he poured the sugar and counted the cups of flour I poured into the mixer. When the dough was mixed, he had a go at rolling it out and then I gave him a little ball of dough to play with while I finished up. (Meanwhile, K was strapped to my back.) The rolled out dough is now waiting in the fridge (I use the Cookie Craft technique - mix, roll, refridgerate, cut, cook, refridgerate again if needed) for us to cut into shapes.

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From the time I was a very little girl, my grandmother would let me help her in the kitchen. She had (and still has) a tiny kitchen, but there was enough room for me to stand on a stool and pinch pie crusts or just sit up on the counter and watch her work. I loved to watch her cook. I loved to sit and talk to her while she worked. She likes to talk, my grandma, and she'd talk and talk about what she was doing, our family, her life story, her opinions on whatever. It made me feel important. And, when I needed to talk, she would listen, advise, support. Sometimes we would argue. But usually, we would just talk and cook and bake.

My grandmother isn't a perfect lady, but she gave me an immeasurable gift, just by inviting me into her kitchen to sit alongside her while she cooked. I want to give my sons the same gift and it makes me so happy that C is so interested in helping me in the kitchen. He loves to be my helper. I hope that doesn't change.

I am, in the some ways, the anti-modern woman. I don't think of myself that way, but in actual fact, I live a life more similar to the one my grandmother lived in the 50s and 60s as the stay-at-home-mother to five children than the one my mother lived in the 80s and 90s as a small business owner turned lawyer with three kids at home with the nanny. I always knew I didn't want the career-focused life that my mother chose, but at the same time, I never thought I would "just" be a stay-at-home-mother, baking cookies and driving my kids to soccor practice as my "job." I am ambivilant about my role as a "housewife," but I am not ambivilant about this: I know this is the best thing I can do for my children right now and I choose it with my eyes wide open. I don't do it begrugingly, though it is the only option that makes financial sense for us until the children are in public school.

My mother showed me how much was possible if you were willing to work hard for it and yet how much must be sacrificed in order to reach your goals. My grandmother found her work at home with her children satisifying and joyful and yet never had the satisfaction of having developed her own talents outside of the home. Their shared legacy to me directly influenced the choices I have made as a woman, wife and mother. I will never have the kind of career my mom has. I don't want it. I don't want to sacrifice my family life for money or success or even the personal satisfaction of having a challenging and rewarding career. On the other hand, I also desperately want to have the opportunity to develop my talents in a way my grandmother never seriously considered for herself. I consider the work I do now to be difficult and valuable and rewarding, if often in intangible ways, but I also want other things for myself.

Right now, while my children are tiny and our financial situation is what it is, my options are pretty limited. I might go back to school in a few years. I might not. Every month or so I dream up a new career goal for myself..."When I grow up I want to be..." But that part of my life is, for the most part, on hold right now. I know it's there, waiting for me, but it lies just beyond my reach. Now I am mother. I bake and cook and keep house. I care for and nurture and hold and change and wash and love and kiss. I grow and change as a person within this role of mother and I use my talents and intellect to be the best damn mother I can be.