Okay, it’s not all that bad but it helps at times to keep
things as light as possible and to not take it too seriously...even though you need to because you
are single-handedly making choices that are in part forming your beloved
children’s personalities that they will then be at the mercy of forever...and even
though they will go forth with these personalities into the world either to
make it or break it. Kiiind of totally a huge deal. But don’t worry. No pressure.
“Kali maa shakti de!!”
What could be harder than parenting? Single-parenting, obviously,
would take about a thousand cakes on that one. But actually sometimes, albeit
to a much lesser degree, it can also be
co-parenting. Parenting is hard in general to wrap your will around but
meeting another person on the same page who has their own preconceived notions
of what parenting is or should be and staying on the same page when it comes to
your beliefs on raising children and consistently standing by said beliefs in
the face of distraction and frustration…two different heads of the same
snarling beast and they both chew your face off. My husband and I can agree
that this is often really shitty. Call a spade a spade. We both can also agree,
however, that it is the best thing to ever happen to us so where do we meet in
the middle of this? That’s the million dollar question. That’s also where the
continual relationship work resides. It’s no laughing matter...except for when
it is.
This past weekend my husband and I were jokingly talking about our day, and he
had an errand to run. I had the baby on the boob and the other two were being
their loud and annoying selves because yes, kids are often loud and annoying no
matter how many times you post their pictures on social media decreeing them
your angels and your everything. I said, “You guys should go with your father,”
giving him an eye and a Cheshire Cat beam. We knew I was mostly joking. His face visibly
sunk in an exaggeration of protest because everyone knows it takes twice as
long to do any errand with kids in tow, and he said, in a wailing womanly
voice: “You haate me!” We laughed. Humor is often your saving grace. It’s also
wonderful when our daughter chalks up everything that goes over her head to
“adult comedy” as she calls it. We’re not entirely proud but this is where we
find ourselves. Parents make jokes because you either laugh or you’ll
cry.
Later that day, after earlier having discussed how his truck has
gotten him over 100,000 miles, he said how he had to go out to work on it for
awhile. I teasingly accuse him:
“You know, you’re truck hasn’t needed anything big but you SURE do
work on it a lot? What are you sabotaging shit just to get out there and get
away from us? ‘OOoh NOOOOoOOO my BRAKE line broke, I better get out there and
FIX that today for sure!!’ Is that how it is? ...’Cause that’s what I’d be doing.”
Again, we laughed. Humor through parenthood is like saying
that the knife wound in your side kinda looks like a face. It’s simultaneously
both denial and complete and total acceptance. We started doing impressions of
him taking out his brake lines and other truck parts because they really did go
out recently and it does seem he is perpetually working on his truck during his
brief time at home. It’s seemingly never ending; duties and projects drag on
into a balmy eternity. Everything moves like chilled molasses because there is
never enough time in a weekend. It’s funny because the poor guy is
actually out there as I write this working on it again. This weekend it’s
universal joints. Lucky bastard. It’s funny because it’s not funny. At least we
have humor.
I think if you can laugh together you have a lot to work with. If you can’t
make each other laugh, then it’s going to be a hard road for you because it can
get a tad rocky and you’re going to feel every bump and stone. If you’re
laughing you kinda just roll over the top of some of them and it doesn’t seem
like such a bumpy ride even if your shocks are shot. Who you have as a co-pilot
traveling with you as your partner in crime on the road of parenthood matters a
lot. It helps if you get along with your celly. Your partner ultimately helps
to determine how bumpy the ride will be and even when you have a good one the
struggle is still real. Parenthood is where relationships go to train for the
UFC; it will either make your marriage stronger or take it down blow by
blow.
That poor bastard in the basket on Indiana Jones didn't survive the destructive flames in the pit. He evaporated. Kali needed her sacrifice. It all seems so gruesome. We can just say he represents your egoic parts that need to surrender to the sacrifice. In Hinduism, Kali is the goddess of death and destruction. In her
earlier depictions she is often a crone with red eyes, holding weapons and
severed heads, with black skin and protruding tongue, a real bad bitch.
Westerners generally view her as evil because of her form and requirements of
destruction and human sacrifice. But in her complexity, she is a dualistic
goddess, in her later Kali Ma form she is also a symbol of Mother Nature,
nurturing and benevolent. Kali is like the transformative power of tough love,
your darkness transmuted. When we are breaking apart from circumstance and
heading into darkness that is Kali, but when we are fitting the pieces back
together and finding our light, that is also Mother Kali. From my understanding, that is. Maybe you can see
where I’m heading with this metaphor.
Dealing with the stresses of parenthood together exposes you to each other’s deepest wounds. If there is anything ugly in your core kids will pull that dark shit right out of you and cover it in glitter and boogers before shoving it directly and repeatedly into your frame of view. “Look! LOOK! Do you see this?!” Kids are Mola Ram invoking the power of Kali to tear into your chest and hold your still-beating heart in front of your face before sacrificing your ego in a pit of flames. In short: kids’ll fuck you up. You need a strong resolve to survive the destruction of the goddess Kali. It requires a tight connection, a sturdy bond to hold your relationship together in the fire as the flesh of your old selves is seared away in sacrifice. Parenthood is some serious shit. It burns a good bit but as with much of life, it helps to laugh.
No comments:
Post a Comment