And I know that there is good
And the in-betweens, I never understood
Won’t you look at me? I’m crazy
But I get the job done
Yeah, I’m crazy, but I get the job done”
It’s a funny concept, and easy to sell, because what IS a day in the life like when you’re the only cat of four kids, three dogs, and the two sometimes incredibly loud adults? She probably thinks she’s the only sane one of all of us, but she’s wrong. Cats aren’t wired to be sane, but you know what, who is? Maybe we all are from birth. We just get lost along our ways. A day in the life of a newborn born in the middle of lockdown means lots of loud people home at all times, laughing and crying and learning along the way. Yesterday, Rider had a full out toddler temper tantrum meltdown. Full out screaming and crying and throwing toys. Sawyer and all the dogs gave him major side-eye. I stayed calm and could also see how parents don’t in these situations. Then he stopped abruptly, smiled, and said: “Ok. I’m all better now.” Isn’t that brilliant? Yeah, it was crazy..
And what of the day in the life of me? These last two days have been quite a snapshot of the nuttiness. Sure, Luna occasionally chases imaginary fairies, and our old cat once tried to pee in Cassidy’s briefcase. Why? I don’t know. Luna spends a lot of her time napping, as she is currently wrapped around my feet as I write. Every writer needs a cat muse. It’s a rare moment of stillness for both of us, because she is not high on cat-life right now, and I’m not carrying both kids – one in each arm through the rainbow crosswalk – while they pinch, push, pull, and hug one another.
There are things that happen, in variation, every single day. And there are new unexpected things that happen, pretty much every single day. Every day I struggle with balancing life. It’s not a simple matter of unplugging or not. My job requires me to be plugged in, but I also have several income streams that need love at different times. Mornings are consistent, because they have to be, but I haven’t cracked the code on doing it all, or really, doing it all and doing it well. Afternoons have slumps. Obstacles. Evenings are particularly hard. Sometimes I hit my second stride and write all night. Other times I’m as curled around the cat, as she is around me. A day in the life of Luna. Or a day in the life of me. Who knows? Maybe they’re not so different after all.
Two days ago, I went into a stranger’s dark, spooky basement because a movie studio was there filming a new horror movie, they needed a last minute baby, and I happened to see the posting. Sawyer is a STAR! I’ll post more on that soon and it was 100% professional and not at all haunted, but I did have the thought, “Are they axe murderers or movie producers.. or both???” I read too many crime blogs sometimes. It was a wonderful experience for the three of us, and after we left the “haunted” basement (this movie is going to be spooooky), and blinked into the sunlight, I drove around the high school because I was trying to deliver cookies to an employee and friend there, and couldn’t figure out how to do it without dragging both babies into the intimidating high school. After the movie success and cookie delivery fail, we came home to the comical hour of trying to feed everyone lunch, clean out the pellet stove, get the eggs, put the littles down for naps, stare into space a bit, and then start working until/during Des and Scarlet coming home.
I didn’t realize you weren’t having fun
And I dragged you up the stairs, I told you to fly
You were flapping your arms, you started to cry
You were too high, no, too high”
The next day, yesterday, I managed to get those cookies to my friend without taking two babies and a dog out of the car (or worse – leaving them all unattended). Then, I dropped off eggs at Des’ past and Rider/Sawyer’s future daycare and could hear them having a dance party inside. I must have swiveled around three times because I wanted so badly to go in there and join the dance party, but I was intimidated by bringing the little ones in. I had things to do, like dropping eggs off for another teacher/friend, because I like to arrange them in rainbow order these days.
Then it was back home to finagle lunch and let the dogs clean up the dino nuggets that Rider was spitting out. Back to get more eggs to arrange in rainbow order. Not every egg is usable, so I threw two eggs over the fence and into the snow to watch them break with a satisfying yolk fly. They bounced but didn’t break. I was embarrassed that Cassidy would ask me why there were eggs in the yard, so I ran out to retrieve them, and threw them in a perfect arc into the trees, with a satisfying crack in the trees. Yolk spattering everywhere in the glistening snowy woods.
After nap time, Scarlet had her big band concert. Yeah, I’m crazy, but we got the job done. A whole show as a family of six, with grandparents. Then, the show was over and the baby/toddler squawks had only been in between songs, or during loud and jazzy numbers, and never during gorgeous piano solos or quiet times. I stood up, placed Rider gently on the ground, straightened Sawyer out in the baby carrier, and put my coat over my shoulders. We walked into the cool night, seeing some familiar faces, and some sour ones too. (I mean, who DOESN’T smile at cute babies being worn by colorful mama: Middle School Parents is who!) We drove home against the moon-lit sky and the tall, tall trees. Off to leftovers and potstickers; hiding chocolate coins.
I’ve got my philosophy
(It keeps my feet on the ground)
And I love you, you’re my friend
But you got no philosophy (My phil-)
Now it’s time for this song to end (-osophy)”