This being a mother bullshit is tough. I don't know if it's because I'm on #3 and she's 16 just now, or if it's because I've had to finish raising my mother who is sick for 3 years now and requires total ass wiping care but somewhere I have punched my overtime time card and the machine exploded because I've done more hours than there are on earth.
Adding on to this, passing the driving test for Bess was so much pressure, why did it feel like so much? We're in SUMMER. Maybe because we haven't been to the beach except once, because the weather was all brooding moors british foggy for all of June, and just recently shed that and decided to give us hot summer after all. So we're a little bewildered and lagging on a seasonal mental scale. And then Bess has basketball like every moment she's awake which is ok because the games are good and the kids are stellar, I'm not even sporty and it's fun to watch and grip the bleachers as they mangle each other and the ball and usually win. And Bess doesn't even like basketball.
But then things got added on like our incredible kind dog died, and then there was a new puppy, and the puppy likes to get up at 6 am and lick my nose (okay that's actually ok) (except I have SHOWN her the clock and she does not seem to understand manmade numbers and sleeping in philosophy). I can't sleep in anyway or the chickens gather on my mom's porch and yell at me like warpainted football fans until I get up and feed them. Then the horses see me and call out to me gently from behind the fence where they wait like gentlemen but they're like hey we're hungry too.
So I could get rid of about half the chickens. But then no one would get free eggs. I love having too many eggs and being able to spread them around the team and the family and the neighbors. If I had less chickens maybe I'd be a better mother.
Because this TEST, man we were too busy with cars breaking and having to go into the shop and my other daughter's bed had to get taken up to SB so she could have a bed when she got back from Colorado where she's busy being a successful summer space student, and we had forgotten to practice driving with Bess for awhile and so we were cramming in driving so she could be comfortable because of this test. Then she had a big party for her birthday and we didn't get to drive the DMV route until night time the night before when she's exhausted from her party and it's dark and there's fireworks going off cause it's almost the 4th and Nathan and I tell her don't worry, at least it'll be light for your test
Everything feels just like hurriedly scratched on the wall like neanderthals fingerscraping in an emergency message before being speared by a mastadon
So we get to the test the next morning and the DMV is like Disneyland except with only the lines, the rides are erased, and we somehow have all the paperwork which seems like a first, and we're in line and watching car by car go in front of us and we're watching the driver instructors get into the cars one by one and wondering which one she'll get like at the end of the Haunted Mansion ride when you get a guest ghost. Is it going to be hairy terrorist? Mean dreadlocks looking teacher? Beard guy in shorts and a vest?
Suddenly it's her turn and I have to get out and she gets lady with alot of words on her shirt who doesn't seem too mean and she leaves and I know she's scared and this is hard on a mom. When your kid drives off scared. One of the other guys waiting is a Hollywood driving instructor who brought his client here to take the test and he says oh I always bring them here because this is the easiest testing place, nicest people. I'm like OH! Let me text Bess and tell her she'll be ok while she's driving right now so she can't worry.
She comes back and I can't tell from them getting out of the car if she ran over someone or how it went. The instructor passes me and says she did great
Those words.
She's done.
She looks happy, and shy, and we had success, this is the feeling of this day, we are DONE. We go back in to finalize all the papers and we're heading out of there, in the heart of skanktown, Arleta, where everyone is rushing somewhere to get the hell out of here, to never have to know this ugly congested stretch of the hot white valley but here is a place that Bess did something. She grew up.
We run home to get the puppy and go to the vet for her shots, because we like to do a bunch of things in one day.
She is saying how she got so focused on the road and scared during the test that the road stretched out in front of her like a million miles long. I told her that's probably the worst test you'll ever have in your life. Because at the end is that freedom you want so badly, and in the way is this new skill that you aren't quite good at yet and you have to convince a stranger with a clipboard that you are. All while appearing calm. I guess it's really every day of life afterwards.
The relief of my last baby being outfitted for the road, and with a bank account (we did that the other day), all if it involving growling strangers and paperwork, I don't know if I'm old suddenly but I'm feeling on the edge of old. I want things squared away, and now that Bess has her license, I feel like OKAY. I'm DONE.
She's got the basics. She can play a decent game of ping pong, she can swim, she can write an essay with some flair, she's funny, she dresses comfortably but well, she's nice to animals and babies, she cares about her grades, she can make and bake cookies, has good cousins, she's been to Europe, she's athletic, works well on a team, can do a backflip, knows her grandparents well, has been to plays and a ballet, will eat a hard boiled egg for protein, can surf, likes movies, and is happy doing nothing.
What else can I do? I think I'm done! I just have to show up for a few more things, get her off to college, keep steering her when she needs it but otherwise, she's got a great brother and sister to help, and a good buncha family to lean on if she needs any of us. Go forward and make mistakes! You have your license, so you can always DRIVE AWAY and start again 10 minutes into the future, over there.
My brother David asked me what I was gonna do when mom has flailed her last and Bess is off to college. What do I want to do with my life, he said.
What the fuck do I want to do with my LIFE?
Recover, first. Then recover again. I need a mom to wrap me up in a nice hot towel and put me in the shady sun to bake awhile. Til I can feel my toes again. I'd like someone to make me a salad and a sandwich every day for about a year. I'd like to not feel so bad that my mom had this awful illness that took her away so slowly and made me feel like I was never doing enough to make her days comfortable. Because I couldn't make it go away. Even though I knew I did enough. It feels like dementia wins, no matter how hard I fight.
So yeah, the DMV and the chickens taking over my porch, and the amount of care a person like me, a me person, has to dole out in a day, it is more than I have and I feel the lack of what I can bring. I can see the edge of me and it's fragmented. I need to regrow some parts and dress them in gingham or at least have a frilly apron hanging nearby in the kitchen. To remind me that there is a France, and there is a breath, and things are beautiful.
I'm not gonna quit being a mom, duh. But some of the early laps are winding down and I can see there might be some changes coming up. Like maybe B will need some elder care. He deserves some peace after all this chaos of dementia and raising these willowy children. So I hope to help him have that, and rest a bit with him. But in there I'll see if I can dig up what is up next, with my one wild and precious life. As Mary Oliver would say.
