(I took this from the Robert Klein gallery because it is how I feel right now)
Here I sit on the couch in the living room in front of something I'm not watching anyway. It's 8:10 PM. Little Girl is to my left and Lucia one seat over from there. Three Furies on the couch unwinding from the day. (what do they do during the day when I'm not here and they're not in school or camp? makes me think a bit of cats, the two of them.)
NoMans is away at the moment and so it is only we three.
The house is silent around us. Dog snoozing on his bed, cats elsewhere being cats and the woods of Weston are dark. It is our last night alone.
It is a cool night and damp still. Tomorrow I hear it will be more like summer again but for now it is cool. And damp. Little Girl is talking about the fact that the pink pony gets a pink treadmill and also a motorcycle. Please let her be talking about webkins.
We started the nanny process a few short months ago. We've been avoiding for several years and just pulled the plug all of the sudden and six days later she and we had selected each other. Tomorrow I bring her home.
Her room is ready. It has been painted, there is a new bed, I made a duvet to cover the comforter and brighten the room. I made curtains with the leftovers and they aren't quite long enough but good enough for now. I delivered her cell phone today and explained hurriedly about in network and out and American minutes and no roll over Verizon and the fact that the land line was the only option in Weston because we don't have cell service here. I think of all the things I have not done that in a perfect world I would have done.
Here is what I have not done that I wanted to:
- put molding on the ceilings of her room and baseboards at the floor
- completely emptied the closet of my, um, stuff (spare sewing machines, parts, remnants, crafts, erm, stuff)
- purchased and painted a bulletin board to match her room and hang on the wall
- asked her for digital copies of photos she loved to blow up into prints, fame and hang on her walls
- move the furnace out of the room off her room so that we'd never have to invade her space or maybe put in another door that went straight out to the common room outside her room (I'm kidding about moving the furnace but not kidding about putting a door in, I get it about personal space)
- pre-register her for classes at local universities
- have all of the social security forms ready
- ask for and put a picture of her family on her dresser
- buy her flowers
- ask her what she likes to eat and then stock the house with it (I'm still having trouble with this because what if she likes processed food?!)
That's all I can remember right now.
Here's what we did do:
- bought a car (the nanny mobile)
- completed all the paperwork and payed the fees (yikes!)
- bought a new bed and had it delivered and the old one removed
- cleaned what used to be my son's room within an inch of it's life - closed that gaping, bleeding part of my heart and walked away. for now.
- removed 90% of the books we were keeping in that room on the shelves
- took down the shrine I erected to my boy when he left and I cleaned his room which included his engineering trophies, dragon kites, kendo gear and photos from birth to almost present and the crystal he loved and the little angel man with the chair and umbrella in the white suit that he brought me from Montreal
- painted the room yellow
- made the bedding and the curtains
- got rid of the pool table in the common room
- moved Cletus's red sofa out of her room and down into the common room in front of the television
That's all I can remember right now.
For some reason my heart is leaking lately. I walk past the picture of my boy in the hall and it's the only bit of him left in the house right now and I am wrecked. Just wrecked. I thought this was about the nanny coming but maybe it's not and maybe it's both, I don't know. All I know is I'm wrecked, just wrecked. Crap.
When I packed his things back in April I sat on his bed and held his clothing close to my face and sobbed until I thought I'd choke and never be the same again. What an awful, awful way to leave. What an awful way to part.
Sometimes I write about my daughter and I coming nose to nose but quite honestly there was never anything like my boy and I. WWIII from almost the beginning. And there's such a hole in my middle right now.
So here we are, Three Furies on the couch on the eve of another sea change. I drive my own demons and make my own music and still I resist and resist.
Sometimes it is good to cry but tonight I'd rather just have another glass of wine (or two or three) and hang on by the skin of my teeth until NoMans comes home and I can bury my face in his chest and find whatever solace I will allow myself in the moment.