Treading Water

I thought that I would be excited to see Jack after a weekend away with friends in L.A., but I wasn't. I mean, I was for a few seconds. I was happy to see that he was happy to see me, happy to smell his boyish, yeasty smell, happy to see his little brown eyes and his big, apple-shaped head. But along with all of that came the panic and the hollow-chested feeling that makes breathing hard to do. Along with his sweet, musty smell came the despair of knowing that I am totally alone in the caregiving of this child, that I am responsible for his needs, that it will be only me who will change his every diaper, answer his every cry, take away every dangerous object out of his hand today. Like the plastic bag he just came into the room carrying.

I am overwhelmed by his needs and ashamed at how little I enjoy meeting them. I hate that I hate motherhood. I hate all of the books that say, "Ask your husband to do this or that when you are feeling overwhelmed and tired." I don't have a goddamn husband. I wish I did, but only because then I would have someone to shoulder the responsibility for this little being of light.

I don't know what to do or how to move forward. I need someone to come and take care of me as I take care of Jack, someone to say, "Okay, now, it's time to eat. Then it will be nap time until four and then you need to go grocery shopping and here's the list." I feel pressure to make a decision about my life, to decide what's best for me, but I honestly cannot figure that out. Every choice feels scary; I still have Jack wrapped around my ankles, tripping me up.

When I was training to be a lifeguard in high school, I was required to tread water for 10 minutes while holding two, one-gallon milk jugs filled with water above my head. This image comes to mind as I write, of me swimming wildly, my legs kicking and cramping and it's getting dark out here as I hold myself and Jack above my head, above the water. I can't set either one of us down, but if I hold on to both I'm bound to get tired.

Lost. Reward if Found.

Where did my enthusiasm go? It’s been missing for a while, and in its place sarcasm and despair have made themselves welcome, nestling into my life like an unwelcome houseguest that I feel too small to throw out. And now I’m considering abandoning my home just to be rid of its ugly presence, but I have a nagging feeling that it might just follow me wherever I go.



Exuberance is mirrored to me everywhere, people who are engaged in and excited about their lives, and instead of inspired I am filled with shame and deep sadness. I should be like that, I tell myself. I used to be like that. What is wrong with me?

Tonight, like the night before and the nights before that, I couldn’t wait to put Jack to bed. Oh, thank God it’s seven o’clock. Just a half hour to go. Just a half hour before I can numb out, watch TV, smoke a cigarette, eat several platefuls of food, read email. Just a half hour left before I don’t have to be conscious anymore, or pretend to be. Just a half hour left of keeping him busy, keeping him safe, keeping him out of my hair.

But as I am laying him down I am aware that I have not looked at him in the eyes, have not savored him, have not enjoyed him, have not engaged or embraced him today. He has been a nuisance,a bother, a thing to feed and distract and do. I know that I am missing out on him, missing out on my life with him,

missing out on something very, very precious that I will never get back. I am missing out on my life.

Where did my enthusiasm go? I don’t want to play, don’t want to get down on the floor and wrestle, don’t want to look for snails or get wet in the

sprinkler. I want to watch this episode of The Real World instead. I want to numb out.

The kids try to engage me, look for signs of life. I disappoint them every day, annoyed that they won’t just go play by themselves. Just go play over there, I say. Let me be.

They eventually stop trying. I have become a disengaged adult.


Disinvested.



Enthusiasm is all around me, like in the John Denver tribute I watched on TV, or in the conviction in which the Supernanny coaches the parents that look like me, in my brother and sister-in-law as they follow their dreams to distant lands, in the voice of my friend who calls to tell me that he has passed his licensing exam. It’s in the newly engaged and energetic couple I met at the party I went to just to pass the time, to swallow up the hours of a long Saturday afternoon.

And it’s in Jack. Jack, my little mirror, reflecting back to me what it looks like to live and to love living. Jack, whom I am afraid, hasalready learned not to expect me to dance when he dances, to squeal with him as he squeals, to be delighted with him by the water in the bathtub as it pours out from the faucet.

I have become his unwelcome houseguest, living off of his energy, sucking it in like a gaping black hole.

Where did my enthusiasm go? Where are you, free spirit? Where are you, joy? Where are you, spontaneity, glee? Have you seen my positive outlook? Have you seen my good friend, laughter? She’s been missing for a while. If you see her, tell her I’d like her to
come back home.

Dear Diary...

Another juicy excerpt from my junior high diaries.

(I strongly urge you to read every one of them... they're heavenly.)

January 19, 1989 (12 years old)

Today at school Amber (note to reader: my best friend in junior high was a girl named Amber Rady. We were "the Ambers," or "Amber ditto" as we liked to call ourselves. Uggh. Doesn't this just make you hate junior higher even more?) did a pretty stupid thing. I'll start from the beginning. Jayme Shephard has been having some friend problems like Michelle Tadeo and Leeanna Miller have really left her out and haven't been treating her very well. Well one day Jayme and I were kind of talking about her problems and some of mine. Melissa Maddux had just called her an A. She was crying and I told Amber about it, which was pretty stupid of me. Amber went out and talked to Miss Arend (today) or first she said to Miss A that she wanted to talk to her about it. I wrote Amber a note saying that I thought it was none of her business and she should just leave Jayme alone. If she wants help, she can get it herself. She got really mad and later Jenny Sipp told me that she went down the halls saying "I hate Amber Rice." I tried to persuade her but she went to Miss Arend anyways. Miss Arend came out and talked to Jayme. I asked Jayme what she said and she said that she mostly just said, "if you ever need help then you can come to me" and so on. But Jayme has really changed. She says that she feels God is leading her away from Michelle and Leeanna and God is working in her life. It's really neat to hear her saying things like that. I'm glad she's changed. I hope to become her friend.

January 26, 1989 (seven days later)

Me and Amber made up either yesterday or the day before, I can't remember. It was kind of lame because the thing with Amber is that she always wins. When we talk to each other about the fights we had she always has something good to say and I don't. So I sit there after she has made a really smart remark, waiting for her to say more. By the way - the reason I'm writing so sloppy is because I'm up in the tree in the front yard. Today was twins day and I was twins with Shay Nelson. We looked pretty good. Mrs. Ross and her daughter, Kristen won, though. We were second. I got my hair cut and it looks pretty good. Shay was cool about not winning, but truely I wanted to win. I thought we were real good and we should have won. My goal is to be more like Shay: not drawing attention, calm, nice to everyone, and so on. I know, this doesn't have to do with much but I think Amber thinks I'm teacher's pet for Miss Arend. She thought that way for Shay because Shay passed out papers and other stuff. Amber looks at me funny and stuff. She probably thinks I'm a trator. The thing is that I think I'm teacher's pet also. Not a lot, but a little. Miss Arend is really strict and not very nice but can give you a 1000 watt smile that just makes you feel like Miss Arend loves you!