Tuesday, November 25, 2003

It seems lately, for the past few entries/months, I've been the one posting on this board. Dale has his forum, which I hesitate to call a locker room. He vents too much about the Church for that moniker.

These two blogs seem to reflect what goes on in reality. He goes out daily and slays the corporate dragon, making the world equal for employees everywhere (okay, just in Michigan). He surfs the 'Net and has commentary on current events, sports, the Church, modern cinema... (I could post links, but I'll let you explore on your own if you haven't already). Something new and interesting, if brief, almost daily. Great Issues are introduced, discussed, sometimes resolved. Important Things come to light and are bandied about.
His is the world of flesh-tone bandages, so as not to call attention to a small wound. It would be a potential sign of childishness or immaturity, inappropriate in the adult world of business and professionals.

I, however, stay home with our offspring, where every day or week is very like the next--or the last. So it seems, anyway. I'm awash in a world of diaper changes, household chores, naps, and snacks. I don't bother to close the door of the bathroom most of the time because that guarantees that either a) it will be flung open by a toddler or b) an apparent trauma will be undergone by an infant. Or both.
I'm here, dancing to the rhythm of two small children. The very mundanity is its saving grace--and biggest flaw. The pressure is cyclical and constant and sometimes crushing; there is no walking away to get a fresh perspective. Usually no Great Issues but a lot of thinking on my feet and improvisation.
Most days the biggest question is what to serve us for our post-nap snack, and the biggest catastrophe is simultaneous poopy diapers. The highlights of my day are the times I hear, "Mama, I yub you so much!" or his gurgle when he wakes beside me. The really good days are Mommy Sandwich days, those stolen naps when she has padded in, still groggy, and falls back to sleep beside me. I usually can't bear to fall back to sleep and miss a moment like that, when I lay between the two most beautiful human beings I know.
Mine is a place where I don't mind cartoon bandages; they are a reminder that I have two reasons to own them. Honestly, too, sometimes they're the only bandages we've got.

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