It's been a while since I felt like writing anything. what's up with that? i don't know.
I do know that my palms itch today. And my feet. What the heck is that about? Yesterday too. Not just a little itchy, but MAJOR get a fork from the drawer and itch the shit out of my hands and feet. Back to drinking a lot of water, as that seemed to help with this last bout of bizarre health quirks.
I've heard that itchy palms mean you're going to run into some money.
I could sure use that kind of running into.
If this is true, I'm going to run into a boatload, because the itching is way way intense. Which makes it hard to type, really.
What else is new? Everything. Everything is new. Nothing is old because everything that was old was wrong and everything that is new is completely uncertain, and look at me. Living through it. Sometimes even enjoying the openness of Everything. The letting go of nothing.
I took Jenna to the bookstore yesterday. This was a big thing for me. My instinct when I'm alone with Jenna, i.e., when George is gone, is to keep the two of us pretty much around home, safe, somewhat anchored, to be sure no harm comes to her. My instinct is fierce protectiveness, a measure of which is good, a stifling amount of which is bad. So making this bookstore decision was something of a milestone, a venturing out, a welcoming in of words and pages and people and stimuli.
Her reaction when I said, "Hey, do you want to go to the bookstore?" really brought my tendency toward inertia home to me. She said, "REALLY? Really mama?! THANK YOU!" As if I just told her we were going to Disney. We're talking Barnes and Noble.
Jenna, I'm sorry. But you're five, not 35, and there's still time for me to get better at this motherhood thing, this living thing, and I'm really really trying.
The bookstore was, well, fun. There I said it. It was fun! I picked up Carol Gilligan, and got Jenna a collection of Jack and Annie books, which they read at school, along with a new book light to put by her bed. She is slowly learning to go to sleep without me. Her chosen company for now are books. And I think that is incredibly wonderful. I hear her reading to herself from her bedroom, think how much is opening up to her because she can read, think of all the things I can start to show her in books.
And I feel alive.
