Now that the kids are about to go back to school (four days to go and counting….) I’m thinking about how I feel. I’m exhausted, as I am every time this year: exhausted, crabby and fed up, even though it is one of my favorite times of the year (see my last post). And as I look at the school year that lies ahead, I’m thinking about the whole idea of Mommys as human doings rather than human beings.
Before I had kids, I noticed that my friends, once they became moms, never sat down. They also never finished sentences, and they fiddled, cleaned, folded, picked up, and canceled appointments regularly. It bothered me a lot. I was not filled with the essence of compassion. What they were doing went so against my feelings about how to live life, how to relax and move at your own pace. Being in charge of only myself allowed for so much more “beingness” because self-maintenance was, in retrospect, minimal.
When the kids arrived and I got married (yes, in that order), I fiercely resisted becoming a human doing. It profoundly interferes with most of life’s adult pleasures, except of course, the pleasure of parenting. But it was shocking and depressing to realize that the sanctity of a civilized life pace simply didn’t work.
And still doesn’t. No matter how we’ve configured it, I’ve had to become a human doing. Never have I worked so hard. Never have I lived life at such a pace for such a long stretch of time. Even when most things are done, I still fiddle with little things around the house like a grasshopper, spasming from one movement to the next. It seems the only option is to make the pace of life you are in, the pace of life you are at peace with.
But as I stand on the cliff of the upcoming school year, no such enlightened peace is in my heart. Oh, no, the view from here looks like: Complete and Total Surrender. Yes, yes, relax. Trust the process — It’s very peaceful once you’ve given over your mind, once you’ve become a zombie for the family. Resistance is futile: spiritual enlightenment via being a Stepford-wife is the only path I have.
I know I’ll be alright, maybe in a month or so. But right now, being far, far away is what’s looking good. My worn-out soul is thinking ship, deck chair, Jane Austen, being served tea by day and sherry at night. Forget umbrella drinks and cabana boys — much too exhausting. Bali perhaps, maybe India? I’ve always wanted to see the Galapagos, or maybe it’s time for Greece? Wanna come?