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Barely-Can-Move SAAB

It’s just ten minutes to seven am. and the sky is starting to get light. I’m the only one awake, except for Claire, who is purring madly and trying to climb into my lap. I’m having a hard time resisting starting up the woodstove — wouldn’t you know it, it finished being installed yesterday afternoon and last night must have been the warmest on record for October in this area. Sixty degrees and the sun’s not even up yet! I’m still feeling a little sniffly because I just finished The Silver Metal Lover by Tanith Lee, which has been one of my favorite books since the first time I read it over ten years ago. It’s not what it sounds like (I always feel embarrassed when I check it out in the library or buy a used copy and wish it were called something else, like A Pane of Glass. (There is a love story, yes, but it’s also about a society based on robots who can do almost any task, as long as its not artistic or philosophical, and the tatters that reduces society to.) I’ve never met anyone who had either read this book or who would read it because I recommended it. Maybe if I could convince them to name it A Pane of Glass instead…

And by the way, what the hell happened to Tanith Lee? It’s just like Suzanne Vega — one day Suzanne and Tanith were writing beautiful folk songs and science fiction books, respectively, and then POOF they turned into pop dance music and extremely creepy horror writers Ugh. What a disappointment.

Life here has vastly improved. It is so strange to realize that most of the ridiculous restrictions that I’d placed on Todd and going to the house were based on things I’d made up or misinterpreted. As Christine Lavin says, What was I thinking?

My relationship with Kitey continues to stagger on…have you ever had a relationship with someone and there are moments when everything feels so right, and good, and you’re laughing o understanding each other perfectly, and stumbling over each other’s words because the conversation is so fascinating? That’s how it is with Kitey. Sometimes.

And then there are the other times, where its awkward and strange and difficult. Which partly has to do, I know, with restrictions I’ve placed on what she can say and not say to me. I know very little about the time just before I was taken away from her, because I’ve asked her not to tell me about it For three reasons. First, it makes me cry (I know, I know, “it’s all right to cry…crying gets the sad out of you”), second because it makes me want to write nasty letters to my father, and last because I’m just not ready to know. I’ve also asked both Todd and Kitey to talk to each other when they have problems, and not me, because I end up defending Kitey to Todd or vice versa, and boy do I hate doing that.

Not that this is an unusual experience to have with her for anybody. It’s just sometimes I feel despairing that there isn’t (for me) some kind of special dispensation because she gave birth to me. Not — for the most part — the bond I feel with Paul.

But when I consider her position from my new perspective as a mom, I can hardly believe that her heart isn’t thoroughly broken. I was with her until I turned five, then not again until I turned eleven, and I don’t remember anything of the pre-five time, when we DID have a strong bond. What that feels like for her is beyond imagining.

River and Ted came over and installed our woodstove in trade for computer help. Todd asked River yesterday what-all she needed help with, and she said she didn’t have anything particularly in mind, that she mostly put the stovepipe up because she knew we needed it done and it was getting cold.

Can you imagine? Four days of driving over here in a barely-can-move Saab that she brought back from the dead, because she knew we needed the help. Not to mention Ted, who’d never met us before in his life. Community can come in all shapes and sizes, and doesn’t have to be a place you live.

I am loving this new work arrangement and am crabby that I didn’t think of it sooner. (Kitey says whenever I feel like this that perhaps it wasn’t the right time to think of it before.) Neither Todd or I wants to be the working parent, but neither of us wants to be the always stay at home parent either. So splitting up both jobs fifty fifty has been a revelation and a joy not only for us but for Paul as well.

More and more I’m realizing that for me — and for other parents too? — the difficulty of being alone with Paul is centered on my not knowing what to DO with him. This is becoming more clear to me as he grows older and is so much easier to be alone with — because he can go to the bookshelf and pick out a book and give it to me. So I can think, “Yay! He wants me to read to him!” instead of the way it felt when he was four months old and I’d read to him and he’d stare blankly at the ceiling. “Does he like this? Maybe he hates it and would rather be doing something else. But what else is there to do? …Sigh…I hope Todd or Kitey shows up soon.”

It amazes me that there aren’t more books about spending time with little ones (or maybe there are– the local library never pretended to be fully stocked).

Attachment parenting has helped in this regard so much. Not only because the sling helps us both keep him close all the time, but the intrinsic bond we both feel with a baby who nurses, sleeps with us at night, and is an integral part of our lives. Not to mention the support we get from everyone here. I can’t overrate support when you’re a parent. A sling, a big bed for everyone to sleep in, and support from those people who are important to you. Start with those three ingredients and you’re on your way.

And speaking of Paul! He’s just waking up, so I’ll let Karma into the yurt and turn off the AlphaSmart.

Tiny Pieces

Halloween / Samhain