At the still point of the turning world

Today seems to be a retaliation day. Yesterday seemed so hopeful and lovely and today seems to have come out to smack yesterday in the face. For instance: Finn is screaming his head off in his crib because he is so tired that he actually is past the point of thinking it is a good idea to take a nap and henry has been continually fussy for inexplicable reasons all day and is just gearing up to join his brother in chorus from his crib in our room. I'm taking the let em' cry approach both because it seems to have the support of some child psychologists and because I am having a moment myself right now-the overcoming the urge to strangle one of them kind of moment. Not really strangle...nobody worry...it just seems a long way away-those beautiful intelligent and thoughtful children I had yesterday.

Here were the highlights (the vivid moments) of today:

Finn sat on the counter watching me make James' lunch munching on cereal but then insisting on having "a bahht" (bite) of whatever the current ingredient was that I was handling. I humored him with slices of onion and pepper, which he crumpled his face at in disgust after barely touching them to his lips and then proceeded to eat almost the entire package of provolone cheese I had saved for this particular meal. I salvaged two pieces from his grasp to melt on top of the sandwich but got howls and shrieks of protest in return.

Henry, sitting in his car seat and a fresh diaper nearly propelled himself under the table with the force of his pooping while James and I tried to take the smallest of naps on the couch nearby. He seemed to scare himself enough to start crying and hence end the nap before it started.

I finished the Hours, which made me sort of sad-both because it isn't the happiest of endings but also because I don't have it to read anymore. It should also be mentioned that I almost finished it this morning (three pages to go) while Finn cried in his crib wanting to get out of bed and with Henry lying next to me in bed, waiting to be changed out of his full diaper and milk soaked clothes...mother of the year, huh?

I realized with a pang of acute frustration that the kitchen, which I just scrubbed down with bleach yesterday (was it yesterday? it must have been wednesday when finn was with grandma. he would never have let me get something like that done) is already covered in onion peels, cereal crumbs dried into fruit cup syrup, a sink full of already stinking dishes and a garbage can full of dirty diapers and coffee grounds (our garbage can an indicator of life). Then I realized with an even more tragic clarity that everything I do is a process of redoing. I feed Henry and he is hungry again, I wipe Finn's face to have it covered in chocolate frosting again, I vacuum to find the rug so crumb covered you can't make out the design, the dishes, the laundry, the diapers, the showers and baths are all a maintenance. This sounds awfully depressing and fatalistic and again I say don't worry about me too much. I'm not sinking into the hopelessness of it yet. It's just all so damn unfinished and my house is always a mess. And unlike yesterday when I was struck by all of the beauty, today I am struck by all of the grime, the diaper rash cream and bacon grease under my fingernails so to speak. I know it gets better or there are better times.I hope I am grateful when they come.

In fact, during the time it has taken me to type this post, finn is quiet in his room and henry seems to have slipped to sleep in his crib beside me, both clean and silent for the moment. And I think I will go downstairs and do the dishes before I start new ones for dinner, take the trash out, put finny's toys back in the toybox and maybe take a nap myself--all a redoing but a bringing back too, back to peace, to tidiness and to my own conviction that this is a good decision-this move, this having kids and staying home, this recipe for dinner.