is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
Not exactly a domestic bad ass (but trying)
Saturday, May 23, 2009
I was all worried about what to do with myself this weekend. It was (once again) up in the air until the last minute where Lil E would be. It's good and important (not to mention, legal now) that he spends this holiday weekend with his dad. Even still, it broke my heart a little to see him go, just as it always does, no matter how much I need a break, and especially when it is for a long weekend that might just stretch on forever.
I reacted as I always do in the hours that follow the frantic time spent packing his bags and picking him up from school and consulting the calendar about how long he'll be away and making plans for the day of his return. I got a little buggy. Itchy. Maybe even wigged out a bit.
I didn't have any plans for myself and the idea of a completely quiet weekend sent me spinning. I emailed, texted, IMed and called my tribe. Finally, came the sigh of relief for a drink here, an evening out there, maybe even a daytime walk later in the weekend. It got better when I made a list of all the stuff I could do alone, all the little tasks it takes too much time and energy to do with a small child and four hands full of Star Wars action figures to do. Then I felt better. Much better.
I was going to be OK. Even in those quiet hours. Just knowing I have options helped. Remembering that it is sometimes uncomfortable to stretch -- in my case from the fast forward, full-time, frenetic weeks to maybe a weekend of not much -- eased my mind.
After sleeping way in (I know), having coffee on the porch in the sunshine, and calling a few friends, I started thinking about how it is my turn to have the Raunchy Mommies and their huzbins and kiddos over to our house for a wine/juice box dinner. That led me right to Craigslist to look for a few dining room chairs for all those guests to sit on while we discuss things like Ralph Nader and organic cheese puffs and Elmo underwear. I need a few extras to replace the wobbly ones I sat on anyway andbroke, falling completely (but gracefully) ass-to-floor. And I got them. For ten bucks. I know, I am a pirate of bargains, my friends.
Because I didn't have a playdate to negotiate or laundry to worry about, I had a crazy and crafty idea to reupholster these chairs. I may have had these inklings in the last few years, but I've shoved them aside with the boxes and boxes of lonely acrylics and embriodery floss.
There in the fabric and craft store, I felt this huge surge of bliss and sadness. I used to paint and scrapbook and paint more and collage and even sometimes sew. I used to call myself an artist. I used to spend a lot of time and money and energy and attention and centering on tiny beads and fine, melted glitter. I loved it. It helped me feel whole and spoke to my spirit and expressed what was deep and quiet within me. I realized, standing among the batting and buttons and printed fleece, how much I miss it.
So I poured some money into funky fabric and my afternoon into making these chairs my own. It wasn't hard and I let go of my need for it to be perfect so I'd actually finish the project today. Now, I feel like I did something good with my day, got a small piece of something big back for myself. Plus, I have room at my table for my friends. And I entertaining is something I miss a lot, too.
When I called Lil E to say our prayer, I got a stitch in my heart to hear his little laugh, to hear him say, "Mommy, I've got to go now because I should be chasing this doggie around," to know he has this whole life outside of the one we share.
It's a long process, I know, but I am working at making a life of my own, on my own, right here in this house. Today, it's going just fine. Actually, it is going quite happily. Maybe even relaxed. And definitely, quite fine.
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