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Maternity and Its Discontents
Feb. 4th, 2016 09:02 amJust to make sure I don’t wimp out and jump from the 2nd floor instead of the 9th when I make that suicide bid, Max called me early yesterday morning to inform me that law school was making him so depressed that he’d shined off classes on Monday, started seeing a therapist, and talked to the Dean about taking a leave of absence.
I spent the rest of the day crying hysterically in between ridiculous money-making endeavors and inventing sprightly dialogue for June and Henry at the Chinese restaurant.
I cannot stand it when either of my two kids is grappling with some kind of pain. I just can’t.
Of course, I could tell him why he’s depressed, but since I’m his mother, an eccentric, vaporous presence in his life at best, nothing I say really registers.
But –
(1) That meniscus tear means he’s not exercising
(2) He and Liza have decided to live apart. He says that changes nothing in their relationship, but I think that’s just the usual male obliviousness
(3) He’s smoking way too much dope
So yesterday was not a good day. Plus it was pouring.
Finally, late in the afternoon, I dragged myself out for a short run in the rain because, you know, exercise.
Exercise didn’t really make me feel any better. Maybe I should have bought a five-pound bag of peanutbutter M&Ms instead and eaten them all.
I guess all I can really do for Max is send him money and mouth platitudes. “Whatever decision you make, I support you 100%!” That kind of bullshit.
What I was hoping, though, was that by talking about the depression, he somehow had managed to coax the evil little imp to jump from his shoulder on to my shoulder, so that maybe now he feels okay.
It often works that way.
‘Cause, you know: Better that I should suffer than that he should suffer.
###
Also, my little furry guy, Rutger, is sick. Sneezing and epicanthic lid down over his left eye. I’m wondering if it’s feline herpes. He’s sleeping a lot but eating and drinking okay, and coming on to my lap to be loved and petted. I guess I’ll watch it for a couple of days, and if it persists, take him to the vet.
###
Also, Annalisa is coming back to the States to present some kind of academic paper on feminism and racism at a conference at the University of North Carolina. She has asked me to correct the English in her – ulp – 102-page academic paper. I really should charge her for that service, but being me, I am doing it for fr-e-e-e-e-e because -- Well. Just because.
I spent the rest of the day crying hysterically in between ridiculous money-making endeavors and inventing sprightly dialogue for June and Henry at the Chinese restaurant.
I cannot stand it when either of my two kids is grappling with some kind of pain. I just can’t.
Of course, I could tell him why he’s depressed, but since I’m his mother, an eccentric, vaporous presence in his life at best, nothing I say really registers.
But –
(1) That meniscus tear means he’s not exercising
(2) He and Liza have decided to live apart. He says that changes nothing in their relationship, but I think that’s just the usual male obliviousness
(3) He’s smoking way too much dope
So yesterday was not a good day. Plus it was pouring.
Finally, late in the afternoon, I dragged myself out for a short run in the rain because, you know, exercise.
Exercise didn’t really make me feel any better. Maybe I should have bought a five-pound bag of peanutbutter M&Ms instead and eaten them all.
I guess all I can really do for Max is send him money and mouth platitudes. “Whatever decision you make, I support you 100%!” That kind of bullshit.
What I was hoping, though, was that by talking about the depression, he somehow had managed to coax the evil little imp to jump from his shoulder on to my shoulder, so that maybe now he feels okay.
It often works that way.
‘Cause, you know: Better that I should suffer than that he should suffer.
###
Also, my little furry guy, Rutger, is sick. Sneezing and epicanthic lid down over his left eye. I’m wondering if it’s feline herpes. He’s sleeping a lot but eating and drinking okay, and coming on to my lap to be loved and petted. I guess I’ll watch it for a couple of days, and if it persists, take him to the vet.
###
Also, Annalisa is coming back to the States to present some kind of academic paper on feminism and racism at a conference at the University of North Carolina. She has asked me to correct the English in her – ulp – 102-page academic paper. I really should charge her for that service, but being me, I am doing it for fr-e-e-e-e-e because -- Well. Just because.
