Friday, February 08, 2008

so not a bad mom

i have to keep telling myself that.

though i fail and fall short in some areas, i do okay in others. all i've ever wanted to be is enough. i've never had the need or desire to attempt failing at "perfect" motherhood, my goals simply are not that lofty, in parenting that is.

but today as my gutter thinking was dragging me down we went for a walk, largly at her request. she often unwittingly drags me out of my funk, it is the gift of children to be all bowels and stomaches, needs and wants, so we must function and meet their needs. not so much their wants, they can get unreasonable.

but i try.

last night she tells me,
we don't spend anytime together.
and i about pass out.

this from the child whom i homeschool and spend every free moment with (save weekend poetry intensives and readings, when i go to the gym and work). but other than that, it's kid related if i'm doing it.

i see her point. we're both studying and i'm in school full-time, working practically full-time, and trying to catch up on sleep the rest of the time. where does she fit in?

making the point, those who are closest to us sometimes see us the least.

so we walked to the library today and a poem always rewards me for my walking. why i do not honor the walk and the poem waiting, i do not know. but i get locked into dysfunction just like the next guy.

i'm reading a poetry handbook by a certain famous poet for my current semester and i'm screaming inside because i don't agree with anything she's saying. transcribing whole passages into my journal and writing, bullshit!

the downside of borrowing all your schoolbooks from the library is, you can't make 'em bleed.

but i've got work in a bit and got dinner from the chinese kitchen of poetry fame (or what i like to imagine is my poetry fame).

heard back from a friend/objective reader who had never experienced my poetry in depth before, only read a poem here or there. and she was laughing, crying, talking to the animals with me, essentially experiencing it.

which is the point of poetry, if you ask me. to take the reader on a journey.

i'm glad i was able to convey that, to one reader at least.

those who are closest to me and fight with me about words all the time (love spats, really), don't get to experience the highs and lows of the ride so much (or they adjust to it, i'm not sure which). so to have an objective reader is a wonderful thing.

my little world on the page, she described it as
emotionally substantial
if i'm remembering correctly.

kewl.

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