Kit bit me on Saturday. It fucking HURT. She bit me because on Friday, she was bitten at daycare. I mean, I guess she also bit me because I wasn’t paying attention to her and instead was looking for white, twin sheets on Bed Bath and Beyond (I have a gift certificate) and they don’t seem to have WHITE twin sheets on the site and I am of the belief sheets should be white because you should be able to bleach them if it calls for it (bodily fluids happen, you know?). Anyway, I was getting frustrated and wasn’t paying attention to her and she BIT my arm. And I ROARED at her. Which usually isn’t my style. And because it’s not my style, she was very scared and upset. And I put her on the couch and yelled “TIME OUT.” And she sobbed and sobbed. And Nat was stern with her and Sam ran around shouting, “You can’t bite Mommy! You can’t bite Mommy!” And she sobbed and sobbed and Nat said she had to say sorry so she came up to me and said “Sorry.” But I was crabby and my arm hurt and I didn’t accept her apology. Instead I walked away from her (I may have pushed her off me a bit) and went upstairs and took a breather. And so she wailed from the bottom of the stairs, like you would see from vintage footage of people screaming in the streets in a war-torn city after a bombing. So I finally came downstairs and swooped her up and she kissed my arm and put her little arm around my neck and kissed my face and took deep breaths in my neck. And now we’re friends again. And I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anyone more.
I’ve been feeling jealousy again. I used to be jealous of so many people, mainly of people who really made it as a writer. People who have the career, the family and the money (if I may be honest, there are only very few people in my orbit who have nailed these three things). The jealousy I felt was almost all-consuming. But once I had kids, I stopped feeling jealous. I really didn’t have the energy. Because once I had kids, there was no way I could channel things into having a writing career people would be jealous of; I basically waved the white flag of surrender and said, “This will do.” Everything was channeled into gestating a child, feeding the child to make them grow and making sure the child didn’t die. But now I’m over that hump and I’m back to feeling jealousy. It’s a bad, bad thing. Jealousy will only make you unhappy. But I can’t help it. Do you ever do this? Do you ever look around at your beautiful children, your happy life, your good job and your healthy bank account and think, “Where did I go wrong?” Ha. (I think I need to say here I’m very happy; things are great. I’m not walking out on my family. But jealousy is a hell of a thing, isn’t it?)
I’m frantic for spring. Frantic. I feel like it will never be warm, the ground will never be soft. I hate all of my winter gear. There was a slight break in the weather one day and I sent the kids outside and I forgot that going outside with my kids was even an option. Nat said today, “Dorothy, I think tonight will be the last cold night of the winter. I feel it.”
I hope he’s right.