Friday, December 17, 2004

Ups and downs

Down: I didn't get the job I wanted, which, it turns out, I wanted very badly indeed, but I did not recognize this (nor did I stop myself from saying stupid things during the interview) till it was too late to do anything about it.

Up: Helena after she pees in her potty, or pretends to pee in her potty, wipes herself with toilet paper that she disposes of in the real toilet. She flushes and waves "Buh-bye pee-pee!"

Down: My mother. I've always considered our relationship good, but never close — she was never my confidante or friend. It works for us. Except for those few weeks that one spring when I was floundering about at university. I won't air our current strife here, but it unsettles me enough that I wish I kept a private and anonymous journal, maybe on paper, just to get it out of my system. (Aha! I could do that!) I'm fairly certain the problem — my problem — lies in the sense of obligation one feels toward Doing the Right Thing, I just don't know what that is.

Down: Being a mother, in the context of my current feelings toward my mother. How powerful and fragile the bond between mother and daughter. How fucking scary.

Up: Apparently I don't need psychotherapy, maternal issues notwithstanding.

Down: Christmas. It's almost here. At least this year, the panic is striking a little earlier than usual, which is more conducive to productivity and results dammit. Although, this year holds less stress. But much ambivalence. No travel, no mother, no brother or sister, no unrealistic expectations and weird schedules, less presents. And I miss that. More sleep, more snuggling, more movies and books. More...EASE. Less tradition. Makes me a little sad, really.

Down: For the third day in a row, to retrieve the little one from daycare I braved the perils of public transit during rush hour, all cold, unpleasant, busy days. Herded like cattle. Sheep. Lemmings.

Down: There are streets that are sloped and slippery. The fronts of my thighs hurt from tensing up against the potential fall.

Up: The festive dress I picked up for Helena. And the cute jeans, because they were on sale. And the cozy pyjamas, cuz she deserves some that don't have weird stains on them.

Up: The way Helena goes on about Père Noël, only she says, "Pe-o-e," and I am mystified that she would find this easier to say without the consonants.

Up. Posted by Hello


Aussie Mama said...

On the upside of your thighs hurting, they must be getting a workout.

Müzikdüde said...

Just because he likes your site doesn't mean you don't need therapy.

I'm working on that music post for ya.

Anonymous said...

I agree with both comments: You are a great writer, Isabella, but I, too, can see some validity in therapy for you. Heck, there's nothing wrong with getting something off your chest with a therapist that can offer feedback/context. Think about it!

My two cents: You're suffering from the blues having to, for the first time in your life, do the Christmas thing on your own. You're now "officially" a grown-up with her own baby to make a Christmas for. I'm pretty sure you can do it. Trust yourself!

Love you!