peculiar momma

"Mr. Duffy lived a short distance from his body."

--James Joyce, Ulysses

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Yesterday 4:45 pm

She’s bawling. She’s angry because I have to go to work. She wants me to walk her into ballet but didn’t get ready in time. She doesn’t understand why I don’t work only between the hours of 10:00 am to 3:00 pm while she is otherwise occupied with scholarly pursuits. Then I could attend to her needs, shuttle her about at will and generally perform my motherly duties. As it stands I am going to work and will be there all night. She is not pleased. She does not care about the mortgage or food on the table. All she knows is I am leaving and will not return until morning. I deposit her, bawling, on the steps to ballet class.

Yesterday 11:00 pm

I’m amputating my second tail of the night. This one is necrotic. The odor turns the hardest of stomachs. My nose is inches from the source. I hate tail amputations. This is how I make a living. I need a shower.

This morning 1:30 am

My feet hurt. I’m a wuss. Three of my employees are pregnant. I can’t imagine how they’re feeling. I sit and try to write coherent records.

This morning 7:00 am

We are checking out our overnight patients; discussing blood transfusions, diarrhea, broken bones and glucose levels. I can’t wait to go home.

This morning 8:25 am

I’m the morning carpool. We should be in the car. We should be driving to school. Instead I am sweeping the floor while my daughter dresses. Little sis will join the parade in her pajamas. She has no where to go. I’m exhausted. The night has sucked all creative marrow from my bones. I can’t do Love Thursday. I have no photo. I don’t know what to say. I look down and see this:




My life might be full of trash but the trash is full of love.

Happy Love Thursday!