It has occurred to me that this job is never ending. I had forgotten how eternal it is. The drive of the next generation to come into life. Every three hours these kids eat, which means one is always eating, or shitting, or burping, or crying or trying to play and they are smiling. But the job doesn't end at 5 or 6, or 7, it goes on night and day, the endless march of humanity to survive. I just watch Jordan during the night, getting home from work, picking up the babies, cooking, cleaning up the kitchen, taking the laundry out and I was a reprieve. I am exhausted. And she has to go into work and manage everything-pay the bills, its just too much.
I can't remember feeling like this when my kids were little. I was always doing twenty things, painting a room, painting a painting, writing, sewing a slip cover, having a dinner party, etc. I remember one block party we had when the kids were 2 months, 6 and 8 for 40 people on our patio. We were the main meal, the dessert and appetizers were at 2 other houses. We had this huge Tudor house with 4 stories and a bar in the basement with the bats from the Brown's world series back in the forties I believe. At any rate we'd all ordered lobster. It was a very shi, shi neighborhood in St. Louis, all these families with these huge houses and I was the main course. Well, the lobster never arrived and before they came to my house I ran down to the grocery store, bought a bunch of fish, baked and served it along with the rest of the meal. How I did this I have no idea. I was just a whirl wind.
But now I'm going to bed and to dream of beaches and sun and palm trees and peace.
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