Hello out there,

and hello in here. Sometimes I look into the mirror and think, "who is that woman and what has she done with my face (body, life, etc.)?" The person inside is still there; I thought this might be a way to let her talk to herself without the little men in white coats circling round. Was this what it was like for my mother and all the aunties and grandmas? I am so sorry that, with most of them, I didn't have the chance to get to know the real women they were.

I have four kids, acquired through various means. Three of them are living here with me, in this little two bedroom, one bath apartment. KidThree and I had moved into it last year, then KidFour needed a safe place and decided this was it, then KidOne needed to save some money for a bit. So, now KidThree and I each have a roommate. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. It ALWAYS makes me feel cramped in my head and heart and soul, hence the blog to try to relieve some of the pressure.

Yesterday was Mother's Day. It went pretty well, considering the complexity of the kids involved. (Sorry, Grandma, I know your grandchildren Are Not Goats, but they really are past the age of being referred to as children.) KidOne worked most of the day, KidTwo lives far away, KidThree did have one fussy spell, and KidFour kept herself together. I got to relax, watch what I wanted on the tube, and got what I asked for delivered for lunch and dinner. Today back to work.

When I look around the apartment, I see it two ways: the first is the way it looks now, shabby, oddly furnished, and with a carpet that sorely needs cleaning. The second way is the way it looks in my head, after money magically appears to allow me to do all I want to clean and furnish and decorate. Prints are framed and hung on the walls, a couch sits across the room, and the tv is on a table/shelf set-up that cleverly allows the most efficient use of a very limited space. There is a lamp hanging from the hook in the ceiling that the last tenant left behind, and another hung from a hook that I installed. The lamps match, and are in excellent condition. No one gave them to me, someone with tastes not quite mine, and there are no pieces missing or chips on one side, and they don't tilt in one direction no matter where or how they are placed. The carpet is beautifully clean--all stains gone. The rocker I'm in is across the small room, next to the couch, a small table between them for my coffee cup. One of those hanging lamps is above that table. Here where my rocker is now, there is an unknown piece of furniture. It might be a pretty bench or it might be a smal loveseat or very large chair. Behind that piece of furniture, whatever it may turn out to be, there is a curtain hanging to separate the kitchen from the living room. I've never liked looking directly in the kitchen from the living room. I love to cook, so my kitchen always looks like something is about to start or is in process or is being cleaned up, and that makes the living room look not quite cleaned up, no matter how spotless it might actually be.

That's how I cope with the external chaos of this everchanging home. Inside my head, it is calm and complete, comfortable and pretty and sensibly arranged. Everything has a place and most things are in those places. Every time I actually accomplish one of the 'things to do' that are on the list in my head, I want to crow like a rooster to announce my accomplishment. Today, if I get the energy, I will re-hang the print in the kitchen. I had hung it up before the kitchen was in its final configuration, and now the microwave obscures the bottom of it. I'll just raise it about six inches and it will look lovely. This I can do without money, so it doesn't have to wait any longer. Now I'm looking around--what else can I do today that doesn't require funds? I have the day available, as my scheduled work cancelled. I know--that chest in the corner can go to the thrift shop. This will entail emptying the drawers (not difficult, there isn't much in them), then loading the chest and its drawers into my little car and driving all of a half mile away to the thrift shop. That will be one less thing to niggle at my order-loving soul. I can also return the school books that are under one of the chair. Six books, belonging to two different schools, neither of which is attended anymore by the Kid who brought them home. That can be done in conjunction with the trip to the thrift store, so I use as little gas as possible. That will be it for my daily goal (got to keep it small, so as not to be overwhelmed).
A