Friday, March 29, 2013

Daughters and Rebels

Today Ever threw herself on the floor, hands over eyes, feet kicking, wailing and thrashing and generally having a complete and total fit because Lola put her foot one inch over on the bed. That's the kind of day it was. I woke at five am with my side and lower back hurting. After not falling back asleep I made tea and read Hons and Rebels in my closet with the closet door shut and light on, continuing my infatuation with the Mitford Sisters. Hons and Rebels is a relatively famous book written by Jessica ( Decca ) Mitford, the second to youngest of the Mitford children. My arms ached, my legs ached, I felt the autoimmune storm climbing through my muscles and tendons and swelling the knots of my fingers and toes like an arthritic old lady. When I woke a few hours later, even the side of my armpit was swollen. A fleshy sea. Swelling hurts. Bursitis- that's a kind of swelling. It also sounds like a vegetable, the kind no child likes and few adults. 

Lola was mopey and driving me crazy by refusing to stop antagonizing Ever, who was melting into shrieks and tears in regular intervals. We tried dying Easter eggs but as Lola sat with a pinched mouth and squinty eyes and Ever screamed from her booster seat, I realized it wasn't what Jesus meant when he said 'let the bunnies lay eggs, and the little children shall eat them.' OK so Jesus didn't say that, but I know he wouldn't approve of my mothering skills today, so I loaded us all into bed and we put Wreck It Ralph in the IMac and Ever nursed and we had a moment of peace.

Today was one of the most pain filled days I've had since my last surgery for Endometriosis, which ended the pain I was in at the time, and my dietary changes ended the other kinds of pain- the headaches, nerve pain, mouth pain, all of it. Walking and feeling pain clinging to my legs like a shitty little monkey, I remembered how it was to move through the world like this all the time, day and night, to always be fighting the tide of pain, to always be aware of it's red brim spilling over into my life. It's hard to speak kindly to the kids, to be patient, when pain makes everything else a dull roar and itself the most important person in the room. It feels like in order to manage it, you have to focus on it very carefully and devotedly; if you don't, if you take your eye off the levitating woman, she will fall to the floor with a powerful smacking noise and break bones. As I write this, my arms ache, my legs ache, my side hurts, my stomach is bloated and sore. A steady music, a marching band playing the same song over and over again.

I tried to drink tea and almost threw up. Almost lets you know how close you came to The Noun or The Action: very close. Almost there!

Tomorrow will be better, Mom, Lola said as we walked back from the dogs we are sitting for. Their owners are out of town on an RV trip to the Grand Canyon with their in-laws. Their two dogs are at home, getting a little crazy. Lola is being paid to dogsit for the week and they happen to live in walking distance. We held hands on the walk there and back. I hugged her close and smelled her hair. It might not be, I said, but that's OK.

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