(Which is better than beating a live goat, just for the record)
And in case you haven’t read enough of my dramatics and opinions lately, I wrote a satirical piece about Tree People and how we ought to deal with them in an ideal world. You know you want to read it.
What I obviously meant to say was:
“Hail to our New Liberal Lizard Overlords. I bow down before you, a humble servant.
Please don’t report me to the Internet Police for daring to hold an unfortunate minority view.
I welcome this new age of hating everybody equally.”
It’s Amy’s Birthday Party Day.
I am inside blowing up balloons with three children when Nathan sticks his head in through the kitchen window.
“Honey, I have absolutely no problem with your knot tying abilities. When it comes to tying knots, you’re excellent.”
I give him a strange look as he continues.
“But when it comes to your judgement of structural integrity? Well, sometimes, you’re not so great at it.”
By this stage I am confused. Structural integrity? Of what? NO IDEA.
“The balloons you tied to the front fence? They blew away.”
Oh. There’s the problem.
“But your knot didn’t come undone. They flew away, with the nail.”
Ah.
Next time: Don’t tie balloons to a nail.
It’s nearly Spring and I am holding on by the skin of my teeth. I’ve been poking the fruit trees, hoping that my attention will make them bud and blossom faster. It’s not working. We filled two above ground gardens that Nathan made out of old water tanks. I planted beetroot, onions, chard and chamomile and thanked the previous owner for leaving his rubbish behind. Ruined water tanks make great gardens.
Evelyn has learned to screech like a banshee and she does this every time things don’t go her way. My baby is turning into a toddler, full of feelpinions and angst. She tried to breastfeed upside down, her hands clutching at my nipple and her body contorting into wonderfully strange positions.
Oh I thought. Is this where we’re up to? Upside down breastfeeding and biting. I remember this.
Nostalgia filled me briefly, for these moments with Amy, when she was small and her opinions were small also. What shoes to wear, what cup she wanted, whether carrots or apples were better. Now I am traversing new terrain, fielding questions like “Is it better to be skinny?” and “Why are some people so mean?” and “Why do things have to die?”
No and I don’t know and it hardly seems fair, does it.
My grandmother’s cat died, on the road that has claimed too many of my animals. All the fencing in the world won’t keep the road from impinging on my life and here we are, another animal down, yet again. I felt guilty for my relief that she was dead, for the calm that came over the other cats. She was a bitchy cat, prone to purposely swiping at your face just for looking at her. Now she’s gone and I’m vaguely sad because it feels like the connections to my grandmother are slipping away, slowly and surely.
Evelyn’s hair curls and reminds me of a photo taken of my grandmother at the same age. I wonder how far the similarities will carry and it’s bittersweet to see Evelyn looking like this.
Spring is coming and the emotion I pushed down in the depths of Winter is coming with it, but that’s okay. I can deal with anything when there are blossoms, a baby who wants to breastfeed upside down and the warmth of sunshine on my skin.
Writing is hard. Writing fiction is even harder. Trying to write fiction while the almost seven year old says things like “I wish I were a vampire. I just really wish I were a vampire, because then I could have teeth and bite people on the neck.”
I have a headache, a project that is calling me and a sleeping baby. And my big children won’t go and play nicely outside. WHINGE.
Evelyn slept in this morning, choosing to start the day at 6.15am, rather than 5am. This was probably due to the screaming for most of the night that just would not stop. This morning, she has two new teeth through and a third is almost down.
“Mummy, are you listening to me? Can I please just talk to you? About ceramic school again? Can I PLEASE just talk to you? I need to talk to you.”
“Amy, darling. I am trying to work. How about you go and read a book? Or do some drawing?”
“But I need to talk to you! Mummy. Mummy. Mummy. I just really wish I were a vampire. My friend says she is a vampire and I just really want to be a vampire too. But vampires aren’t real. But I want to be a vampire.”
“Amy, go away.”
“But I just really want to talk!”
Indeed.