I have in fact discovered that solo with children is even MORE fun, I continue to meet all the tasks of it in on time, and having fun, and getting to know them deeper because there is a difference in the way we know the babies and the way we know the children and the way we know the adolescents. so here we go into adolescence, and I am getting to know them as people, work with them in their inner lives, be supporter and Home, encourage and remind them. they are so delightful, gyargh, and in the flow of daily child care, I like it,  and the key different thought that changed the difficulty for me was that these driving errands and places to be, tutors and school and can you believe they are somewhere at all times and can’t get themselves anywhere, these drives and locations are the site of our relationship. Convo’s in the car aren’t asides that don’t count in our ‘reality,’ so elusive that we have to go on vacation to find. life is NOW. never do I feed the writing fingers any ideas, because then they get all Eddy Haskell about it. but I was thinking about Now, now, the nothing that’s all there is.

I haven’t washed my face. and there’s a carpool convo to be had. i was working on a writing project away from the phone. shew. what are the ethics of refusing to give the world access to oneself?

nap, lavender Epsom salt bath, start the veggie soup with baby lentils, red beans, yellow potatoes, and spinach? carpool convo?

even the carpool convo wasn’t so bad, the working of the worldly tasks, the stacking of the BB’s. I have to change my grip completely from the studio mindset to the scheduling mindset to make a plan, because children are certainly not going to be picked up at whatever time spirit moves me, but at a concrete time made in scheduling mindset.. I have to set iron pins in my mindscape that call me to the actions of my responsibilities, otherwise I might float right past them, diaphanous and unawares.  I use my phone alarm a lot. being well-slept is an important part of showing up.

today is biz. and arriving at two separate school pickups with a hot dinner in a thermal bag that I’ll serve them individually as the other takes their turn with the tutor. they won’t like the food I bring, and will ask for pizza of spray-foam white flour and cartoon cheese. They’ll whine about my homemade from scratch lentil vegetable soup and baked mac and cheese cups. they won’t like it. Why do I expand this aspect in my head, just bring the soup and wait the twenty to forty years it takes them to realize that was nice food I gave them in their childhoods. should I just smile mildly and lean back softly in my chair, gently dumping the rejected food into the wastepaper size trash can in the mini kitchen at the tutor’s office building where I take them an hour and ten minutes away every wednesday until 7 pm?   I need more shrinking. I wasn’t anticipating this very tough problem. my head clamps down above the eyes.

I’m going as fast I as damn well please.

i am mothering. god grant me that i write the mothering as well, beginning with the parts about underplaying my motherhood to The Art World, which is paramount to hiding it, which makes me burst out laughing at the keyboard that one could possibly shake loose of children, even in the most dire professional moment. and how i see the younger ladies now bringing the babies along and still getting respect thank gods. Thank you ladies, then I imagine myself explaining to my great childless heroes, Beatrice Wood and Jane Goodall why I also didn’t put the writing voice into mothering, and in both cases I feel like a silly simpleton, be your full self, they both tell me. they are where my brain is, it’s in the car with my children. all the time.

and so I look for regular breaks in the driving, and bring my lap desk and glowing salt lamp powered by the cigarette lighter I sadly don’t need anymore. and lighter-to-AC plug adaptor, so I can power my laptop while I wait on heated seat.