Thursday, June 2, 2016

The Third Shift



Ain't no shame holding onto grief as long as you let other good shit in, too.

Bubbles, The Wire
Season Five


I crashed last night at 10:30 after giving Sophie her cannabis oil and slept soundly until 1:30 when the baby monitor next to my head squawked. I got up to go check on the girl, found her sitting in the middle of the floor, wet and soiled, a stale smell permeating the small room. I changed her quickly and silently and lay her back down before going into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and then on my way down the hall Oliver emerged from his room and asked whether he could talk. Now? I might have said and maybe my hair stood on end and I might have looked less than maternal. Sophie was already out of bed again. I could hear her wandering around her room, looking for places that aren't padded to bang her head. Just a minute, I said to Oliver and went back into her room, led her to bed, lay her down and covered her up again. Go back to sleep, I said. Back in my room Oliver stood in the doorway, needing to talk about the tilt of the universe and what it means to be fifteen and have divorced parents. There were tears. It's normal to feel weird, I might have said somewhere between the Copernican theory and Descartes. I was both patient and in full Despair Camouflage. I filched the character Bubbles' remark that struck me like a gong last weekend when I finished The Wire binge. Holding onto grief even while letting good shit in. The talking went on for probably half an hour during which Sophie rose and was put back in bed several times, and I was emptied even as my boy was filled up. I told Oliver that perspectives are often most hard to find at 2:00 in the morning. That's why they're called the darkest hours before dawn, I said, while I gave him a hug. He said he was ready to go to sleep and went back to his room.  He apparently fell immediately to sleep while I lay on my back in full darkness my mind at peak performance. Sophie was up again, and when I went into her room she looked at me in the darkness with owl eyes. She had no seizures. There've been too many owls this week. I spent the next three hours finishing up paperwork on my desk and getting ready for my book salon tomorrow night. I read Toni Morrison's eulogy to James Baldwin and played three games of solitaire on my computer. Sophie was up the entire night. She had no seizures. At 5:00 I turned off the monitor next to my bed and feel asleep before waking again at 6:30 to give Sophie her cannabis oil again. I found her curled up on the floor, not asleep. She sat up and when I went to change her, I noticed a dark band at the top of her middle finger. It was hair, a hair, many hairs wrapped so tightly and thickly around her tiny finger that I had to work to get it off. The nail bed was blue but grew pink as I rubbed it. Had that kept her up all night? Hair, wrapped tightly around her finger, its source something too much to contemplate? There were cannabis oil stains on the pillowcase, and later, when I tied a kerchief around her neck to catch the drool, my mind wandered to its appropriateness. The kerchief is black with bright green marijuana leaves printed all over it. I thought it was probably a poor parenting move as she attends one of the district's largest high schools that has a two page dress code with admonishments against hair rollers and shower caps, white trim tee-shirts and bandannas. Then I thought if the thing carried the logo of Lundbeck, the manufacturer of Onfi, it'd be ok. So in a final act of civil disobedience, I lit up a giant spliff*, waved it over her and then dabbed a bit of CBD oil on all her pulse points for good measure.  The boys slept in. This is the good shit. I clocked in, stoned, for first shift.








*New readers should know that I haven't smoked pot in thirty years, that is a lame attempt at not so much irony but more like magical realism.

13 comments:

  1. You must be SOOOO tired today. It's summer vacation I imagine so you have a full load. Why haven't you smoked? It might help with stress?

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  2. The fact that Oliver knows he can come to you in the middle of the night speaks volumes. And your example of equanimity in the face of all of it is so powerful. You know that's why he was able to go right back to sleep - because he feels safe in your care. I am so glad that Sophie wasn't seizing last night and that she wears the kerchief as a talisman today. May you both get rest at some point.

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  3. so...makes my insomnia look like a stroll in the F-ing park. Glad there were no seizures, but sorry you were both up all night. Oy. Vey.

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  4. As part of my daily overload of random information from the internet, I happened to learn yesterday that's called a hair tourniquet, sometimes discovered on the sock-covered toe of a desperately crying baby. Miel used to tangle her fingers in curling ribbons and pull them tight. It seemed to be a calming mechanism she needed. We called it her knitting. I wonder if Sophie does that in the night with her bountiful curls.

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  5. You are a blessing on this earth, woman. You are.
    And wasn't it Ina May Gaskin who said something like, "When your heart breaks, that makes more room for love to get in?"
    God, life is hard. Whatever helps us get through it is a damn miracle.
    Which is mostly love.

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  6. I think I'll not complain about waking up at 4:30 a.m. and not being able to get back to sleep.

    Best,
    Bonnie

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  7. Bubbles and Ina May Gaskin quoted in the same post/comments, I love this blog!

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  8. I love the word "spliff." It's inherently funny.

    Sounds like you handled the late-night crises admirably, even if it didn't feel like it at the time. Those dark hours before dawn can sometimes be very dark, even for a teenager! (I remember that well!)

    I've just started "The Wire." I love it so far, but I'm only midway through Season 1. Dave is less enthusiastic about it -- he finds it hard to follow -- but I keep urging him to stick with it!

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  9. No words, only love and strength for the journey.

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  10. Well I'm about to roll up in my new lowrider and roll you up one and change all that. Let the magic begin!

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  11. I don't know how you do it but i am in awe that you do it with such humanity, mother wit and grace, and i am wishing you deep sleep tonight and the same for Sophie, too. Have a great salon! Wish I were there. Also, it is something special that Oliver comes to search his heart with you in the middle of the night. It will stand him in such good stead. Hugs, dear woman.

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  12. Just when I feel drained dry, someone taps into a hidden well I didn't know was there. You are a full mama. Hurrah for good shit.

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  13. I don't think I've ever had a meaningful parenting moment - when I was asked for important advice or criticized for important issues - that didn't happen late at night. What's wrong with discussing things with our kids over a fresh cup of coffe in the morning? (I'm smiling, sort of, but I'm not) I know you had all the right answers for Oliver.

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