NaPoWriMo 2012: twenty seven
After School (a prose poem)
The world is in me. Before the bus arrives, I sit relaxed and waiting and then he is here and I tense, coiled into waiting to hear what went wrong or right in his day, coiled because I know I'll hear almost nothing except what I can extract from reconstructed play. I can not hold those hours in my hands, cannot know he is loved, cared for, and it is frustrating and I take my anxiety out of me and release it into him, his constant stream of super hero echolalia enfolding me into more anxiety and how can we ever get to a peaceful place where I could homeschool if we needed to, if the threats of bullying I'm hyper-aware of explode? I can't take this constant chatter. How could I handle this all day? Add homework into the mix - and knowing they are looking for perfection and there's nothing in my kindergartner that allows for picture perfect handwriting and even though I know better I am still always on the edge of striving for perfection and the day just degenerates...except it doesn't really. I can be a grouchy mama and nothing ends. Nothing terrible happens. I do not shriek. I do not scream. I do not hit. I am just grouchy and ask a bit more than I should over homework that is essentially way too demanding. Aren't we all allowed to have grouchy days? Aren't I allowed to sometimes slip into trying to please authority figures even when I know better? This is how I was trained. This is how we were all trained. I still need to keep unschooling myself, to learn over and over that I am human that I am loved, whole, unconditional. Sometimes I slip. And then I remind myself. And I can get back to loving myself loving him, loving me, loving us all, once again. Back to letting go of the perfectionism. Back to knowing it only matters that the work is done and that the real work is to become whole, not perfect, whole. Back to knowing that the world is in me.