“The poison oak leaves are already turning orange” I say. My feet landing on the trail feeling the weight of Jack and the osprey carrier. Today was Jacks turn to go on a hike with Billy and me. I let Jack walk down the hill, past the lavender and what I call cattails because of their soft ends, but I think are a type of flax. He walked along the edge of the curb until he got to branches growing out into the street. He stops to examine them, Billy is sniffing all along, and I’m engaging my most patient self. I keep Jack in the carrier on the trail still, the smell of dog poop permeates my nostrils and the thought of Jack tasting it runs through my mind. My legs work hard to get us up that first hill, step over the fallen tree, and climb up the old wooden steps. I’m bringing Jack into my special place, the walk I’ve taken almost religiously for the past eight years. I can still feel my quads wet inside my rain suit, water dripping in my eyes, black dog hair sticking to my hands and the smell of dog piss, from the first week after my mom died all those years ago. Billy, Zappa, and I would be up on the trail early in the morning. It was a wet and stormy winter. I would wear my mom’s raincoat to be close to her. It smelt like her house, musty, eventually needing to be thrown away. The moss on the trees was bright green and the creek ran fast. The tears on my cheeks ran just as fast, my eyes puffy and swollen, my world changed forever. Never imagining then I would be here today hiking with my little boy. I tell Jack all about the bark on the trees, how the moss is brown but will turn green, and that someday, when he’s bigger I’ll teach him how to hike on this trail without getting poison oak. My memories of today merging with my memories of the past.
Category: motherhood
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When I’m tired there’s things I want to do, but lying down feels so good I don’t do them. It’s hard to get motivated. There’s also the thought of maybe it’s better to lay here and do nothing. I am definitely not going to do any house work. I have an hour and half left, I could work in my studio. I want to paint but just don’t have the energy. I look back on the day, 6:30 am wake up, breakfast with the babies, playtime until 9:00 when Ramona arrived. Walk Billy, meet a friend at the gym, do a too intense workout class, have lunch, go grocery shopping, now I’m home. I’ve done a lot and expended a lot of energy. Why do I always feel this bit of guilt for my desire to do nothing? I’m even not doing nothing now because I’m writing. I wish I could learn I don’t have to always do something and it’s acceptable. I can’t get over the feeling that I’m wasting time when I’m doing nothing. It’s a disease.
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Foggy, coastal, town.
Lets see what the day brings, babies sleeping now, cold hands and noses made putting them down for thier morning naps a breeze. Jack rode on Alan’s shoulders, practicing his “hi’s” to passerby’s.
The visitors to this town are mostly friendly,the locals always give a “hello.” I find myself completely over my worries of “being an older mother” now. Even the last time we were in Mendocino I had moments of wondering what people were thinking, if they thought I was too old, or “she definitely used IVF” or did they wonder if I used a Surrogate? Egg Donor?One day I was talking to A therapist I know who specializes in alternative family building and who had her baby late, relatively speaking. She said “it only matters what you think about it ( having children through egg donor/ surrogacy) ” It’s so true, I wonder why I care what other people think?
I read an article the other day, I can’t find it now. It talked about the concern in Britain, by some “experts” about the trend to have kids later. They were thinking of ways to encourage couples to have kids in their twenties. They said it’s damaging to society how people are having kids later in life, after they go to college and have careers. I don’t understand, I feel like it’s a positive, at least for Alan and I. We are fully dedicated parents because we know who we are as individuals. We have done our studies and know what we want in life, we know how we want to live. I think that’s valuable for Jack and Fiona. It also makes it easier for us to stay focused on our goals while still having energy for the demands of parenting.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 