So, I asked Dr. Gooch, "Did you read my last post?" Of course I wasn't asking, "Did you read my last post?" because I know he reads all my posts. But I was wondering what he thought about it. He said, "Yes, I read it, it was good." Then, added, "It was long. I usually don't read things that are that long, but I read yours." I found this humorous and telling.
Humorous because I still don't know what he thought (we'll surely pull out the atlas again tonight and hash it out some more). Telling because it delineates our two worlds. Before I expound, let me say that gratefully we take every opportunity for their convergence--these two worlds.
Dr. Gooch works in Emergency Rooms. Have you ever been to the county Emergency Room on the south side of the city in Anywhere, USA? You don't have a chance to read anything but the first line because someone is bleeding out or has glass in their eye or a pole through their arm and everyone else is barking at you like dogs. He can't sit and ponder, he must skim and decide. React instantly. He is saving lives.
I, on the other hand, am a stay-at-home mom. Have you ever stood at the sink filtering the lunchtime demands of three children? Seth is yelling at Lucy to stop looking at him. Lucy's comeback, "I'm not looking at you Sethie, I'm smiling at you!", then she adds "Mom, are you getting my macaroni ready?" Hazel's head is twisted nearly all the way around in her highchair to show me her distressed famished look--as if the audio version weren't effective enough. Not much less hectic than an ER, you think. But I cannot skim and decide. I cannot react instantly. Each demand must be met along with a lesson learned, feelings addressed, amends made, laughter reinstated, and the whole mess cleaned up for round two. I am not saving lives, I am shaping them.
Both our lives are vital to the whole. And I always thought it a tricky perk that Dr. Gooch gets to participate regularly in "my" world while I NEVER get to participate in his, in fact, I don't think I've ever been in the ER where he spends most of his waking hours.
I also find it...well, it floors me that I am in charge of shaping these three downright beautiful lives. This is why I write, I think. Because I'm floored and the only thing that gets me up off the floor sometimes is to put it into words--somehow this makes what I have bit off more chewable.
Now onto more important matters (tongue in cheek).
I'm "tucking" away this picture for future reference. I would like, someday, to pull off this haircut. I HATE doing my hair. If I had this haircut I would not have to do my hair. One more really simple way to simplify. Think of the possibilities. I could go bombshell blond one week and ravishing redhead the next with minimal "grow out" time.
I go through these phases where I crave such a do. In fact, right now I am trying to grow my hair out really really long. I informed my hairdresser, Mari (roll the "r") that if I appear in her swivel chair pleading to "chop it all off!", just ignore me and simply trim 'er up! I don't trust myself.
But, seriously, doesn't this girl look oh-so-satisfied? And those glasses! I'd HAVE to get me a pair of those to go with the cut.
*photo, courtesy of the Sartorialist