Thursday, March 18, 2010

the puddle of grey bleakness or my day so far

I woke up this morning at 6:58 and hopped out of bed to finish the 3 native american headdresses Jack asked me to make for the tribe he's starting at school. I sewed last night until 11:30, top stitching layers of felt, carefully placing feathers, cutting animal silhouettes. While I was close to being done, I hadn't quite figured out how to get them to stay on 8 year old heads so this morning was all about stitching tying bits the the ends in the black. I finished at 8:36 which left me 4 minutes to get dressed and out the door.

To head to his family morning. I forgot the last two (something I've never done in all my years of a parent) and there was no way I could miss this one). Jack gave out the headbands. He was thrilled with the end result, not believing I'd actually be able to get them done and was so proud to show them to his friends. As the morning was wrapping up, I gave Jack's teacher a set of the greeting cards we created to auction off next week. They are beautiful and several parents asked if they could order additional sets. Plus, people had seen me on TV, read about me in the paper—it was a lovely morning to be me.

I ran downstairs, chatting to various people as I raced to my car so I could move it so I wouldn't get a ticket tomorrow. A friend happened to be parking behind me so we got to catch up for a bit and then I wrote.

Then I headed to a local coffee shop, it was so too nice to be at home, finished blogging and chatted some more with the kids who work there. I think the super cute boy would date me if he could. That's always good for my ego.

From there I headed home where I found an email from my editor with FLOW sales figures. It's been steady at about 120 copies a week and last week, after Whoopi told everyone to go buy the book, 500 were sold.

500.

That was it. The huge leap at amazon. The books out of stock. The attention and the hype and the national television sold an extra 380 copies.

I was ok about it but Jon flipped when I told him. And after hearing his profound disappointment, I crashed. Hard. Painfully. Totally. I was like a balloon that had been filled with helium that was surprised by a battle ax. I didn't pop. I was shredded into tiny pieces of rubber. That fell onto 6th Avenue to be run over by countless taxis.

At that point all I could do was go to sleep. I laid on my bed, wrapped in Iz's super fuzzy blanket, waiting for sleep to deaden the ache.

After 45 minutes I got up and went to yoga. It's this stunning spring NYC day. I pulled out brown sparkle flip flops and summer yoga pants and headed to class. Which I had to leave early so I could get to Jack's pick up on time.

His day of positivity was over. I could see it in his face as soon as I got there. Everyone else was running around and playing and he only wanted to go home. I made him stay for awhile, hoping he'd get involved with friends. I even stopped 2 kids and tried to get Jack interested, but he just sighed and refused to engage. The entire way home he wallowed in the misery of his reality—no friends, no interest, nothing to do, nowhere to go. I have so much trouble with this. I've been there, I know how he feels, I spent years trapped in depression, but my empathy's been worn away.

By the time we got home, to find Iz waiting at the door, starting to steam that I wasn't home, I was near tears.

10 minutes later I was in tears.

I just can't handle this anymore.

Jon's going skiing tomorrow, for 5 days and I'm alone with the kids. With baseball practice and bat mitzvah school. A sleepover party one's invited to and the hurt feelings of the other who doesn't have a playdate planned. No time to take time to myself.

Then one week and it's spring break. Dinner for 14 for passover at my house. My parents here, sleeping on the couch in my living room and then time down in Florida.

All I want is to be alone. To wrap up by myself and process all that's been going on. To celebrate the very cool things I've done this week. To hurt over the frustration that nothing's really changed. There have been game-changing moments. And moments of tremendous hurt and disappointment. Moments I've lived a life that's not mine but is what I want. Moments I can't stand being in my real life anymore. Moments of pure joy. Moments of even purer pain.

Jack, Iz, and I went to an art store around the corner, just to get out of the apartment. Stopped off for ice cream on the way home. One happy kid. One with his chin hanging on the floor.

And now, I have to figure out what to do for dinner. I hate this part of the day. I still have to get through homework, baths, bedtime. Helping Jon pack for his trip.

Tomorrow I have another interview. I don't want to go. I don't care how I look. Doesn't matter what I wear. I hate having to plan school pickup options. Getting to midtown. Having my makeup done.

I can't do this anymore.

Having said that, I'm heading to the supermarket.

1 comment:

jesse said...

I just went through a break up and feel like shit. Is the desire to sleep a natural reaction to having a broken heart? I manage to feel better if I focus on what is good. I'm not being trite. But if I tell you what I envy about your life, maybe you'll remember what is good. You write in a way that makes me able to taste and smell NYC. I envy the fact that you aren't intimidated by that city. You can say that you have a book being sold by AMAZON. Geez, right there, just that alone is enviable. You are a great mom, and it sounds like you are a great wife. You have a husband. And you are younger than I am.

There's more, but I'm not sure I'm on the right track. Focus on the cool part of this day, the cool parts of your life, your kids and your husband and your interesting name and quit worrying about the damn numbers about book sales. blah blah blah it's about the journey... blah blah blah

Now have some wine.

That's all I got.