Low Light

When I picked up Josie today, Rachel said, "Well, it was a very, very, very, very..." (o.k., what's it going to be? Good or bad?) "... hard day." Shit. Then she followed up with. "It was really, really, really," (OK, I get it.) "really hard." Double shit. So that's it. You're telling me it's over? She's out on the street.? I have to quit my job, because hiring a nanny would mean I take home basically no pay... or find a different in-home situation, and I have a pretty good hold on the market, which is CRAPPY. Triple shit with rainbow sprinkles. She didn't go so far as to say that she is quitting, but she did say, "I don't think I can do this much longer." But didn't Josie have a couple of good days two weeks ago?! Didn't she have her head put in a cage yesterday so they could photocopy her brain and wouldn't that make you have bad day, too?!?! Why don't you just adore my little girl!!?!?!?! So we are back to code red stress level and the drawing board. Hopefully if we spend some more time with her at the babysitter's Josie will realize that it's not so bad, that the two other grabbing, screaming baby boys aren't any tougher than her big brother and she can handle them. That mama and papa really need her to be happy so they can not feel so guilty at work so they can make enough money to pay the mortgagegroceriesutilitiesgas. I feel absolutely infantile complaining, but the ten year olds nearly exhaust me.

When we got home I launched into making dinner, which I had completely forgotten about in the morning. Jasper, ignored, was conveniently playing by himself outside. While trying to extricate an umbrella stroller from the garage, he started to scream. I was certain he was being crushed by one of the large baby vehicles which are stacked precariously in the shed. I ran outside, heart pounding. When I discovered he was merely frustrated, and not dying, I let him have it. "DON'T EVER SCREAM UNLESS THERE IS SOMETHING REALLY WRONG!" I screamed. "YOU SCARED ME!" Well then guess who was scared. He pulled himself together, taking after his papa, and proceeded to ask me very politely for help as he got his stroller into all sorts of other traffic jams around the yard. A while later I ran upstairs to change Josie who had dumped a bowl of water all over herself. I heard a car pulling up to the house. I presumed it was Peter, so I relaxed and slowed down the changing process. Then I hear Jasper scream again, this time "Mama! Mama! MAMA!" I tear downstairs with a half naked Josie, don't see Peter's car in the driveway or Jasper, and am immediately certain my son has been abducted. Upon bursting through the screen door, I see him lounging in his stroller, smiling. Then I really let him have it. "That's it! You are never playing outside by yourself again! I thought someone had taken you!" His eyes practically melted out of his head. Talk about scary. Not that I was anywhere close to the model mother before (as this blog is virtual testament of), but working full time seriously compromises my ability to be patient and available. If I don't figure out how to balance the two roles soon, it could be a long and unfortunate year. It took a whole evening of kisses, cuddle and explanations to back pedal from that one.

We released the pressure of the evening a bit by heading up to Carter Hill Orchard for "orchard night" with a small group of neighbors and friends. It's a blast with a beautiful view. Jasper played hard with the big kids. A year ago he was still mostly playing by himself with the plastic cars and ignoring them. This year he was playing bad guys and stealing apples. On the way there Peter and I were having a tense conversation about "what-to-do" and from the back we hear, "Mama, see how the sunshine is hitting the car window like that. I like it." It was indeed a stunning early fall evening, dappled light finding the first orange patches on the maples. Trees heavy with fruit and promises of pies. Joy.