The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Under the Covers.

Kitty Kat, yesterday, after a full day of JK, walks into the house and flops on the couch in utter exhaustion.

"So, mom?", she called lazily from the couch.

"Yes?" I sing-songed back.

"Did you walk into the house after I went to school and go 'Ahhhh....peace and quiet'?"

Actually, I didn't. It was weird, but I felt a little 'off', and I put myself to bed. I could not sleep, could not relax, and even though I knew she was far happier there than here, I was unnerved. My head felt like it was full of ginger ale, effervescing adrenaline under the skin, and I was a little weepy, though the tears would not come. M. did his usual, holing up in his office working on Piper Cubs or Messerschmitts or what have you, and I waited for these horrible feelings to go away. I wasn't prepared for it, because I was happy that she was off to school, and I still don't think that I was upset about that. I think what it might have been was the vision of all the exasperated parents, in suits, in heels, dropping their kids off at the school doors, all looking busy and robotic, heading off to their other lives, whatever they might be. I felt the feelings I had when I'd go to work, the dread and the fear, and I realized that this will be happening again. I will have to work again soon, and I will be one of those parents. I will be trudging off to a somewhere I don't want to be, whether I fear it or hate it. I will be away from my home where I am comfortable and important, and I will be part of a machine in which I am a number, a nameless face, someone else to blame the lack of success upon.

I still don't understand myself all that well. I know I like to work in the literal sense, because I like being busy and I like to feel a sense of accomplishment. What I don't like is the feeling of separation from all that I know, the criticism, the eggshells. I don't enjoy waking up in the dark to go to a job which has no real meaning to me. What meant something to me at the old job was the interaction with the staff, and the way they seemed to respect me and what I stood for. I had principles, you see, and I usually stuck by them, which often made me a target but I was okay with that. Now, I want a job that is more me, but I don't know what that is. This is what I thought about while I was under the covers.

M. took me to lunch, though he was a little distant at first (because of my 'men are stupid' comment prompted by the inexplicable Sarah Palin fascination), and when we saw that our favourite Indian restaurant was closed, we opted for the Italian restaurant with the open patio on the corner. I had been craving chicken bhoona and palao rice with a warm piece of naan bread, but I ended up with an arugala salad with slivered parmesan cheese in a lemon olive oil dressing. It was fine, it was simple, but the winds of Hannah seem to have reached the far north and the slivers of parmesan were airborn, like tiny moths floating on the breeze. As we got into the car to go pick up our wee one, I felt a little better, newly fortified and sated, but still not ready to face the world, not yet.

I am hopeful, though.