Letting the Water Hold Me Down

Today I felt pulled in a million different directions, not a single one of them meaningful.  I mean, I understand that motherhood is meaningful.  Marriage is meaningful.  Creating a loving home for a family is meaningful.  Shoot, even my relationship with the cat is meaningful. 

But, like everyone, I struggle to find the meaning in everyday mundane tasks.  The laundry.  The dishes.  Feeding the cat.  The laundry ... again. 

After all those chores, this morning I helped Bill by proofreading a chapter he wrote for a book that will be published by a prestigious publisher.  It occurred to me that this would probably be my best editing gig, and yet I couldn't even put it on my resume.  And I get it, part of marriage is supporting your spouse in his/her endeavors, and Bill's success is our success.  Except ... maybe that would have been enough in like 1953, but for me, I want my own professional success. 

So I looked at some more job postings online.  I got frustrated. So I ate inappropriate snacks.  I read a book.  My anxiety level was sky-high, so I took Nathan to the park to enjoy some of the gorgeous fall weather. 

When I got home there was a rejection email.  I decided my best bet for earning money was to fill out reimbursement forms for prescriptions from our insurance.  I must have filled out 50 copies of the exact same form.  Name, Social Security Number, Is This Claim Due to an Accident?, etc. and repeat. 

Nathan was completing a sticker book while I filled out the forms.  Which was wholesome and all, except about every 5 seconds he interrupted me to locate some sticker he couldn't find.  And if I made him wait while I wrote city, state, and zip code on my form, he got all whiny and impatient. 

I was supposed to go to the gym after that, but instead I ate dry Cheerios and watched TV while my kid played computer games.  I felt like the worst mother ever.  For dinner he had a sandwich and I had some frozen stuff from Costco. 

The thought of doing the bath and the pajamas and the bedtime stories again, just like I did last night, and the night before that, and like I will do tomorrow ... ARRRRGH. 

But I did it, and he was crazy because he had pent-up energy from sitting in front of a screen for too long.  And we got to the books and the snuggle, and then ... well, I'm a mom, and my natural mom instincts kicked in, and it was all, OMG I know I was ready to scream at you half an hour ago but I love you so much and I never want to let you go and awwwww.  

The breeze from the open window gently blew on us.  I heard the crickets and the wind.  And suddenly I found myself imagining I could hear waves crashing on the shore.  There was a time when I lived close enough to the shore that I could hear the waves, and I've always found the sound of the waves soothing.

It's not just the rhythmic sound of the ocean that soothes you.  It's the idea that the ocean is a force so much bigger than you are, a giant constant that feels so much more meaningful than all the pointless stuff of everyday life.  So long as the ocean is out there, I feel like it's all going to be okay. 

And so, somewhere in the middle of the country, I close my eyes and imagine that if I listen hard enough, I will hear the ocean.  Because I know that it's out there, with its vast dark expanse of water, bigger and more meaningful than I am.  I know there are forces bigger than the tedious minutiae of life, and I know everything will be okay.