Sunday, November 7, 2010

Crisis in cycles, not bikes*

PushmePullyou Daddygoatgruff
In my house we have repeating distinct crises, an everready bunny list of someone sick, etc.etc. You would think that I have twelve children, but no. no.
I've begun to see how much of a pattern there is here, so many familiar feelings again and again, and I wonder how much I play/feed into this all.
     For instance, The day after.... there is an immediate sense of blessing that the moment of crisis is passed/past. I think sometimes, even during the event, that i can see its end or envision the morning clearly.  whatever and Whatever may be Coming, but there is a really clear relief.
and the really clear relief is mixed with really muddy adrenalin comedown, and a simmer and a stew, sometimes in the same hour.  Resentment, a 'don't i wish i could actually use the babysitter we had coming, but no'. or a 'why should i bother asking her if she can come tomorrow, when this hell is all sure to happen again'.  a sort of depression of an aggressively passive sort, if that make sense.
Then there is the day after that, normality is more in-reach but not quite in the room. The windows have been cleaned, you can see the sun outside. Nobody feels that well, but noone is talking about it anymore. . .
Then there is the day after that.  apologies have been made to the sickness gods, children have been restored their innocence in the destruction of their mother's lives, husbands have returned to the living.
and then the insanity of post-reconstruction.
and then - at least here- it all starts again. 

*post could be alternately titled, AND THEN THERE WAS VOMIT, again.


The Maven said...

The worst thing about having a kid? The puke. The worst thing about having more than one? Knowing that the puke can - and will - come from multiple patient zeroes, and that it has to travel through the entire house (in our case, five people) before it finally has no more hosts. I feel for you. I'd give you a hug, but, um... I don't want the puke. We get it enough, thanks. Instead I'll look piteously upon you and your family, and hope that it passes quickly. Oh, and I'll hand you a "free hug" coupon for later.