On Friday morning it was hard to get the child out of bed, but this didn’t seem so unusual and these days I’m often thinking Is this it? Is this teenagehood? Have we hit it? Are they moody? But three quarters of the way to school it suddenly became clear that they were actually sick so we did a U-turn and drove the twenty-five minutes home. And *like that*, the one day before the weekend was gone! But I noted that I wasn’t as crushed as I used to be when I was living in the marriage home and my time alone in the studio was so precious. And as always there was the bizarrely automatic and sincere CONCERN for the child sitting feverishly beside me, a limb of concern that stays limp when not needed and then abruptly inflates like a life raft or boner the moment I feel their suffering. I still remember my amazement – twelve years ago – at this new part of myself, waking at 2am and doing all kinds of care, who knew I was such a selfless saint?! Night after night forever! There’s something squiggly here though…this great strength that is only used for our own children, like a single-use straw, and keeps us busy and out of the way…I’m not sure.

Got the child in bed, hot fluids, Yin Chiao, homeopathics, manuka honey. They conked out and I had to go to my yearly OBGYN visit.

As I was walking from the parking lot to the medical building, two young men passed me and said, “Hi beautiful, where’d you get those eyes? Your mama or your daddy’s side?” I smiled and didn’t answer but I thought: My mom’s side although they skipped a generation, I guess recessive genes can do that, so they came from my grandfather, Henry, who had one leg shorter than the other from polio and died the year before I was born.

I never experienced catcalling in my youth and I remember once telling my friend Khaela that this was because I just had too powerful a vibe, the men sensed it and instinctively kept their distance, and she gently said, No, it was my short curly hair and lack of tits. She’s a total lesbian and never wears makeup or gives a fuck but she had long hair and big tits and thus got catcalls. This was a comedown but obviously the truth. My hair is a little longer now, long enough I guess, and my tits are suddenly bigger.

At the OBGYN I mentioned the bigger tits, with some anxiety (are they just bursting with tumors??) but he said no, it was because I was fatter (that’s not how he put it). Then he put his fingers up my vagina and asshole, which is his job.

I got home, the child was alive and not kidnapped (always right before I open the door I’m thinking: what if they are just….gone.) The time is kind of blurring now. At some point I put the cheaper oil into the more expensive bottle that makes me feel like a pro chef when I squeeze it.

In between tending to the child I did TM, wrote a teeny tiny bit, made healthy muffins and later dinner. (These are both Melissa Clark recipes. It’s like when you have a crush on someone in a band and just innocently listen to their music non-stop without anyone knowing why. Except with recipes and no crush. Actually it’s just a woman making food.)

The child took a bath and I liked how this towel looked on the floor.

It was what we call in the biz, “a difficult night.”

The next day the child was less sick but more bored. Many videos like this were made by them.

I read news and felt furious and then remembered I wasn’t supposed to let my joy be stolen and then read more news.

I made egg muffins for breakfast, with a plan that they could be reheated all week.

My friend Marissa asked me to “style her” for a photoshoot which no one has ever asked me before and I wasn’t sure how to do so I just recreated this Margiela reference with things I had. I’ll mail the clothes to her.

It’s unclear what happened the rest of that day. I dealt with the child’s increasing boredom by not trying to fix it which is exhausting. I texted with friends.

The day ended with me taking a walk in the night and listening to music and then coming back and wondering if the child would be…gone. But they were taking a bath.

The next day, yesterday, was rough.

Now it’s Monday and the child is back in school and everything has changed, thankfully. I can want more and so can they.

I leave you with the dance I made while the child was on their walk, ripping off my clothes in a hurry and then throwing them back on right before they came in the door. I’ll put it behind a paywall because sometimes it’s fun to pay for it. I like to pay too, sometimes.

Let’s stick together this week and don’t believe him.

x

mj