So here I am in the very early morning, and just not tired. I know I will be in the morning, but whateVer! Jake was already snoring, and I just wasn't up for it at the moment. My feet are about 98% frozen and about 97% numb so I will need to retreat to the bed to thaw out next my nuclear reactor pretty soon.
I keep having this thought about women and tribes. So we all grow up and decide that we should get married and move in with our husbands. That's cool. Sometimes we move down the street or across the state, but some move across country. I can only imagine that it must be rough to be away from family and the community that you have come to love, OR you are fleeing for safety and privacy. So is the privacy all that it is cracked up to be.
Enter a baby...or two within two years for myself. Cloistered in my house with barely baby talk and all of the stuff that goes on here all day long. Oh wait, I sit around and eat bon bons and watch musicals all day, while I am knitting, right? Nahw. That is not what I do. Between the cooking and cleaning and diapering and cleaning and feeding people and trying to keep everyone clean and myself clean, there is a point where I feel like I need to go down to the river to do the wash with my girlfriends in my tribe, but there is no river, and no tribe and no chatting on a daily basis. Aren't we missing out on those daily connections?
If I was in my tribe and washing clothes or making dinner around a community fire, in a community pot, wait! We would probably all be making something and then sharing it. I could make bread, and Tribelady A would be making stew and Tribelady B would be making...bon bons for tomorrows time kicking around the fire while the men are off hunting...How do we have sounding boards amongst women, unless we are on the phone all day long? Where is the watering hole in this metropolis of Greater Des Moines? I want to be able to see potty training for other moms, and have the babes all playing together. I want to know what they are making for dinner, or maybe come over to my tent for dinner so we can continue talking about...whatever? I feel like my hunter would be much more attentive to me if I wasn't chewing his ear off every night because I think he wants to hear what I have to say. The stuff that I have been bottling in all day, knowing that my babes could care less what I think about all of the dust collecting in the corners of the house and all of the ins and outs of the home life. He doesn't need to hear all of gobble from the day, but he is typically the only adult being that could (if he wanted to) respond to me and actually listen. Being the adult female that has a great deal to get off of her chest, I talk to much!
I know that this faux tribe would not only consist of my peers but there would be the older mothers and grandmothers in the tribe who would impart their knowledge and experience by teaching and talking to me as well. The interaction, I think, would be amazing! I realize the thought of this screams "Compound!" to many people, but would I be a better Mom if everyday was a coffee day? Would my frustrations with my children and the chores around the house be eliminated with a quick vent to a fellow at home mother who might be feeling slightly cloistered as well?
*Sigh* I feel better already. Typing into this void with the chance that someone might hear me does something to my psyche that I can't quite explain. I don't want to say that misery loves company, because I am not miserable. I enjoy my confining house and my demanding babies, I just wonder if anyone else struggles with the dichotomy of loving where you are but still being frustrated about circumstances. Here is to the simplicity of tribal life!
I am sure that Jake would not be encouraged to go out hunting each day in a loin cloth, guiding Iain on the proper bow and arrow hunting that he would need to teach his loin clothed son. And Fiona and I would get tired of our boobs hanging out saluting the sun or the ground whatever the case may be, batting away flies and stepping on beetles on the floor of the rain forest. Our leaky hut would be damp and potentially cold, and we wouldn't understand where babies come from so our tent would probably be full to the brim! The potty training wouldn't be an issue, but I am sure there could be poisonous snakes lurking right around that palm tree over there.
I will keep to the confines of my dry, warm house, as well as the conveniences of my refrigerator, ice, running water, and the occasional wearing of a bra. Thank you Lord for putting me in the lifestyle to which I have grown accustomed.