Family assessment

I haven't gotten in this blog habit. I'm not sure if it is because there isn't regular interaction (except you, Jules). Or because my life is so dull. Or because my computer time is often spent elsewhere. Or just why. But it's been over a month, and I wonder why the lack of reflection.

Tensions around here are cut-with-a- knife-thick. Sometimes I wonder, will there be a straw that breaks the camel's back, or will there just be the slow erosion of warmth and trust to such a degree that we never find our way back? This week has seen both event and erosion. Marriage is hard work, and it's disheartening to write that statement after 22 years of it. I don't want to leave; he doesn't want to leave; we love each other. But things get so thick with misunderstanding. It's a bit like opening my swimming pool for the season....we didn't cover it; the pump doesn't always work properly so that the water inadequately circulates; there are so many leaves in our yard. The bottom is coated with a winters-worth of dead stuff, and in the heat of spring, the algae is blooming profusely. I put in chemicals, I scoop out leaves, but after hours of work for the last 4 days, I'm still left with a pool that still cannot be swum in. I vacuum the water to waste, realizing that it's too dirty to even filter clean. Then I add more water, which throws off the chemical balance; now I must go to the store to get more chemicals, and I'm out of money. So I'll go next week after payday, by which time the algae will have bloomed again. I'm the only one working on getting it clean. I went out yesterday and there was a dead bird floating on the water. A bird! I wonder if maybe we should just fill in the pool; it's so much work for so little personal reward. This is my marriage at present ... the swimming pool after winter.

In other news, my children are growing up. My dd is trying desperately to graduate. Actually, I am trying desperately for her to graduate! I've hired a math tutor for her and ds, who is similarly flunking math. Hopefully they can pull it off. Worst case scenario is that she's still accepted into university, but she has to go to summer school and take Math For Dummies or something less rigorous than precalculus at least. I can't imagine how life is going to work for her at university; or rather, I can't imagine how her roommate will make it. She has so many challenges, that I get discouraged on her behalf. She seems blissfully unaware; I suppose that is its own sort of blessing.

G. What will I do when G flies the nest? That will be my undoing, I imagine. It is so lovely to have him here, even though most times he's out with friends, at work, at school, or doing some fun thing as he spreads his wings. Why is he so dear to my heart? He mumbles, and shuffles, and isn't particularly solicitous. But he's the child that I intuitively relate to, even though I rarely know what's going on inside that head. Bill resents G, notes all his faults. I'm sure that elicits a sympathy from me that wouldn't be there otherwise. Don't mess with one of mama's boys. Maybe it is trust. I just trust that my heart is safe with him, and I think he feels the same way. Some days I just want to capture him and stop time and cherish him like he deserves to be cherished. He'll be gone a month this summer -- it will be sad for me.

Moses scares me. Not so much what I see, but what I don't see. What I see is a kid who is handsome, talented, smart, personable, funny, sharp, has everything in the world going for him. What I don't see is the softer side, the aching side, the fearful side, vulnerability. Surely it must be there, but it's been disassociated out of him, I fear. Within five minutes of witnessing a moment of anger and violence, he can be chatting to his friends on the phone as if nothing has happened. Where is my little boy? What is he doing with his observations? He's angry at me for becoming Catholic; why does that strike deep, when other things seem to bounce off him?

And then there is the complex bundle that is C. Sad. Silly. Baby of the family. Wise old man. I adore him. He exasperates me.

My little ark. I'm trying to keep it afloat.