My lonely walk along the tracks makes me think. All in front of me is magic light of dawn and when I turn the grainery is black against the coming light. Today my cramps inside are as painful as before children. I wonder why my womb is squeezing itself so tight, wringing itself out of all the nurishing fluids. The sky starts to bleed a bit too, but then all the colors become fully bright. Even the scraggly tree looks beautiful in its death, bridging the pond. Its every naked finger juts out into a strong antlered tangle. I remember seeing antler chandeliers in old castles in Europe. I want to go back there some day and roam. But then I remember that I have children and the very thought of bolstering them through even one afternoon of sightseeing and culture that "is good for them!" exhausts me. I'm saddened by the fact that my children are swallowing this lie that they need movies and mass produced toys and candy in order to be happy. They've lost some of their original curiosity for the natural and the wild after they see bits of television and other kid media on You tube. "Can I go on the computer now?" seems to be Donovan's most frequent question. Last night Weston threw a terrible fit when our family "movie night" got postponed while we connected with some troubled students who courageously came to our door to talk. I think the main problem with Weston was he was over tired, but we tried explaining to him the importance of being flexible and of listening to others when they're upset, and that movies are special at the right time. It was 10:00 before he calmed down enough to come to bed.
It's getting so I'm afraid to take them into a store with me. They've come to believe they deserve something just for them every time. When we were down in Lethbridge, I stole into The Bay for one hour to Christmas shop before I head into rehearsals next week. Sure enough, when Dave and the boys joined me, they first had to go up and down the escalator three times until a saleslady asked them to stop, and then Weston connected to a bright blue suitcase that he couldn't leave without. He wedged himself into a full body embrace with the $140.00 carry- on and swore the only way he would get up off the floor is if we PROMISED to get it for him for Christmas. No amount of reasoning would deter him. Not even the most common sense tactics like. "Weston, we already own suitcases." Or, "If we bought you this expensive item, I'm not sure we would get you much else for Christmas... maybe some socks." Nothing worked. He had his own reasons, and they were pretty good. "This is a luggage just for me." Well, it was beautiful, for luggage. The brightness and the compactness with all the little pockets did look fun, and now I see what he really wanted was something to call his own. Not something handed down or chosen for him, but something he connected with and could use for his own purposes that belonged to no one else. He nearly persuaded me in the end with his glassy green sad eyes and quivering bottom lip, but Dave held firm. Besides, it was time for lunch.
Suffice it to say we had a rough ride in the car trying to find this German restaurant which ended up being closed and the whole time traveling we had to endure whining and crying from both the boys about how severely they were being mistreated by not being taken to MacDonald's. "They know what kids like there, Dad." "They have French fries with ketchup there, Dad." "They have a play park there, Dad." "We're not going to no stupid boring German restaurant!" We did finally find it and it had closed two hours earlier. Dave was crushed. His mouth has been watering for Kaizespatzle ever since the Bodensee with Heiffeweissen in Meersburg 12 years ago. Well we compromised for a near by Tim Hortons. Nothing original in that. We all ate a bow of soup though, and that was a nice surprise. Of course the boys probably would have eaten styrofoam at that point because it was almost four in the afternoon. All this shows me that routine is good. I know we need a change and vacation every now and then, but when it comes to bed times, eating times and play times, routine is good.
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