Friday October 16, 2009
“just”
Willoughby took this photo late last summer - I love it. It’s such a capsule of our domestic life. Magnus running around, washing on the line, garden, me distractedly sweeping the concrete whilst co-ordinating the boys at play…
***
I was at a dinner party recently and someone I just met grilled me about my circumstances and then said: “So you just do part-time tutoring?”
Just.
I paused and let the question sink in and then, ill-equipped to answer more fully, replied: “Yes, I just do part-time tutoring.”
But the ‘just’ caught in my throat like a fur-ball.
I ‘just’ do part-time tutoring like the Dalai Lama ‘just’ advocates compassion and world peace.
Which is to say, I don’t ‘just’ do any damn thing. Blame my histrionic temperament, my over-sensitivity to the world, my tendency towards melodrama - but since I had my youngest child my every day has been a complex, exhausting see-saw of giddy highs and lows and endless challenges. My life has never been so full and busy and utterly demanding.
Since youngest son was born I have written dozens of poems, hundreds of blog posts, several articles, I’ve written novel-length blobs of critique for student work, I’ve grown kilos of fruit and vegetables, I’ve cooked thousands of meals, I’ve held an art exhibition, I’ve climbed two mountains, I’ve made my own clothes, I’ve started a local poetry night, I’ve been part of collaborative art projects, I’ve done many poetry readings, I have made hundreds of quirky softies, I’ve contributed my strong arms to community gardens, I’ve knitted hats and cardigans for new babies, I’ve helped judge writing competitions, I’ve written proposals for freelance work, made hundreds of dollars worth of stuff for alternative craft fairs, I’ve done hours of voluntary work in kindergartens, I’ve dropped in and out of political groups, I’ve done guerilla art, I’ve looked after friends, I’ve looked after the children of friends, I’ve written dozens of letters, I’ve reviewed books, I’ve filled journals, I’ve contributed to my wider family, I’ve done talks about the importance of community to community groups, I’ve sent care-packages to friends who need them, I’ve left meals on doorsteps, I’ve advocated for people who struggle to speak for themselves...I’ve done many other things which I can’t even recall....
But okay, on the face of it, in that world where we are measured in such ways - a world I only barely inhabit - I ‘just’ tutor part-time.
Do I seem a little annoyed? Well, that is because I am. Actually ‘righteous anger’ would be a better phrase.
I recently read ‘Fast Talking PI’ by Selina Tusitala Marsh (AUP) - it is an very good book - be sure to read it. Here is a poem from that book illustrates some of the frustrations of the mother/writer/teacher:
THINGS ON THURSDAYS
by Selina Tusitala Marsh
If Updike could do it
why couldn’t she?
Surely the forest of books
the cropped rows of frames
lining his house
shouldn’t make that much difference?
Surely if he can rent a one bedroomer in Paris
clear his schedule
six mornings a week
and write
publish a novel
five days after each child’s birth
be inspired by his wife’s art
and write
travel to Rio de Janeiro one week
Geneva the next
and write
pick up a baby
smell her neck
and write
feed the rabbit
watch it jump and run
and write
teach and read
prop up solid oak lecturns
argue with publishers
move house four times
and write
be acclaimed
and famed
and write
wipe the literary slate clean
and write
drop off famous writers
pick up famous painters
add an extension to the house
to write
and write
do parent-father things on Thursdays
and write
speak for money
write for money at The New Yorker
and write
enthuse over critical reviews
and Burt Britton’s drawings
and write
why couldn’t she?
She just needed to
clear the sink
wipe the bench
and write
be inspired by encrusted cups
and write
travel with the vacuum down the hall
into four bedrooms
and write
pick the kids up from school
and write
publish school walking bus committee notices
and write
be inspired by an overgrown lawn
and write
teach and read
to the kids
pick up the baby
smell her neck
and write
change the baby
feed the baby
watch him jump and run
and write
prop up the finances
argue with parking wardens
move house four times
and write
exclaim and rage
and write
wipe the baby tip to toe
and write
drop off the DVDs
drop off the school-age kids
pick up groceries
add a second washing line
and write
be parent-helper on Thursdays
and write
work for money twice a week
6am to 9pm
and write
enthuse over her son’s stories
the other son’s drawings
and write
wash bath and feed
and write
clean out the fridge
in the closet
behind the couch
and write
disinfect the toilet
find the missing rolls
get the rego and the WoF
and write
read for work
and write
write for work
and write
work to write
yeah right.
***
Why would you ever put ‘just’ in front of anything a person does? I am a human-fully-being, not a job-description.