songs of experience

I just realized I have been avoiding thinking (and writing) about what is really on my mind by spinning my wheels over silly drugs. It hit me today when I was running with Dave’s ipod (husband, Dave … not Dave C). I was cruising along on random shuffle when Hank Williams, Jr.’s version of the song, Tuesday’s Gone, clicked on. The moment Hank wailed, “Tuesday’s gone with the wind,” I nearly stopped dead in my tracks. You see, Tuesday (before becoming my writing day) used to be activity day with my daughters. I have always arranged childcare for Mon., Wed. and Fri. mornings … so I could train or coach … but Tuesday was my day to take Sarah Jane, Rosie, and/or Lizzie out in the world - to the library or a children’s museum, on a bike ride, a hike, the coffee shop, Katie’s pretzels, the Toy store, a little friend’s house, a canoe ride, a creek walk, to Jordan Lake, Maple View ice cream, Paint the Earth (ceramics), tumbling class, kindermusic, indoor swimming, ice skating … in short, anwhere and everywhere - for the last 13 years. Early on, I met other mothers with their toddlers and we would wile away the hours at the local park. More and more, though, you don’t see mothers with their children; it’s all nannies and grannies. I have been lonely. Tuesday outings were crucial to my happiness and sanity and connection to “society at large.”

So this past Tuesday, my last Tuesday as a stay-at-home mom … after 13 years alone (mostly) with my kids, scraping and scrambling for meaningful, memory-making activities, poof, it all comes to an end. Truly with a wimper, not a bang.

Human beings have rituals and celebrations for every rite of passage under the sun. Childbirth, baptism, first communion, birthdays, anniversaries, bar mitzvah’s, graduation, engagements, marriage, house-warming, retirement, death .. but there will be no party for me next Tuesday, when Lizzie walks through those kindergarten doors. No one will send me a card or phone me to ask how I’m doing or to say, “congratulations for a job well done.” It is an invisible job we do. Rather, it was an invisible job. Tuesday’s gone with the wind.

Train roll on, on down the line,
Won’t you please take me far away?
Now I feel the wind blow outside my door,
Means I’m leaving my [old life] at home.
Tuesday’s gone with the wind.
My baby’s gone with the wind.

And I don’t know where I’m going.
I just want to be left alone.
Well, when this train ends I’ll try again,
But I’m leaving my [old life] at home.

(chorus)
Tuesday’s gone with the wind.
Tuesday’s gone with the wind.
Tuesday’s gone with the wind.
My baby’s gone with the wind.

Train roll on many miles from my home,
See, I’m riding my blues away.
Tuesday, you see, she had to be free
But somehow I’ve got to carry on.