War of the Worlds
June 30, 2005
Sometimes when I am at work, I feel like time has stopped around me in terms of my blog, my art, my writing. I think of it as existing in a a separate world, one that is frozen in time and suspended in silent, black space, waiting for me to get back into the correct orbit, but I have trouble firing the right rockets. Someday, I am afraid I will look back on my life and see my creativity permanently entombed in that cold dark place, and I will only exist in the world of exhaustion and fear.
Stan's still in a lot of pain and after a week, the health insurance still has not approved a MRI, and I suspect there is a breakdown between the very busy medical practice we use and the insurance company. At work, a major retrenchment of support staff is going on and some fine people are losing their jobs. We are reorganizing yet again and it will be a startling change in our staff and our work methods. Good friends are looking for jobs and well-tested work relationships are being torn apart.
It seems easier at night to just go home and go to bed before sunset, finding relief in the haze of my pillow and the air conditioned temperature. But while all this weighs so heavily on us, summer has begun and my kids are home. Before I know it, the big ones will be back at school and we've barely had a dinner together. The Little One is in her first week off and I owe an enormous debt to my sisters for keeping her entertained with company, leaving Stan and I to collapse each night without guilt.
Yet, who wants to live like this? I didn't have a family so I could work my ass off and see them on the way to the bathroom before going to bed each night. It's the same syndrome I fought to avoid when they were babies. I was damned if I was going to have children and leave them with a babysitter everyday, being a night and weekend mommy only. I was very lucky to find part time work as a lawyer and a great babysitter, and we struggled financially, and are still struggling because of our decision, but I had years and years to be a full time parent and be involved with their lives on all levels.
So last night, I went to the movies. It would have been easy to come home and crawl into bed with Chinese food and the boob tube on while Julia went with my sisters. I'd been at work since 7:30, sat through an early morning meeting where they outlined who was being axed, went to court, had an excruciating deposition in a room with no air conditioning and a recalcitrant witness, then walked three blocks in pouring rain with no umbrella, and spent another few hours at the office trying to wade through all the "critical" paperwork on my desk. But if they all went together to see War of the Worlds, who I was I going to go with later on ? It was one of those times when I knew that if I just kept moving, I'd make it, but as soon as I sat down, I'd never get up, so I drove right from work to my sister's and we all piled in their car to race to the early show.
It felt luxurious to spend two hours in a dark theater, huddled with my Little One under my jacket a we both screamed and grabbed each other with fright. Fortified by a cold, sugary Slurpie and a plate of salty tacos and spicy, warm cheese, we ate and drank and cringed and held our breath, and shrieked and laughed. The movie was fast-paced, loud, and didn't leave much time for thinking- just what the doctor ordered! As we were leaving the theater, the Little One put her arm around me and said, "This was fun, Mom". And it really was.