Happy Families

Nick left yesterday. He'd come home on the City of New Orleans to visit. He spent most of his time with his girlfriend, Katy. Which was fine. But I got a few nice hours with him yesterday. We've had rain and rain and rain, but the weekend was beautiful. 4 crystal October days. The leaves are in full glory. We met my folks at Ernie's for breakfast, and decided to walk there instead of drive. So we took the long walk along Broadway and I got to hear about every class. I've decided that I really like walking. I think it works a kind of magic. If we had driven, Nick and I would have shuffled around the house, lost in our own parallel worlds until it was time to leave. Then we would have gotten into the car and listened to the radio on the way there. This way, we were forced into proximity. He's such a nice kid.

I read this review of a new french film, I forget which one, in which the reviewer talks about the "tenderness and support" of families. And he's so right. When families are working the right way, that's what's happening: tenderness and support. It's hard to talk about and it isn't very interesting or dramatic, but it's the common ingredient in all happy families. And, despite everything, I think that Nick and Lilly and I are basically a happy family. Lilly's hovering at a very consistent 126.8 pounds, which, her doctor points out, is a little odd. "It's interesting to me that you are able to maintain your weight at the same value. It's almost as if it's on purpose." She was saying that we're not out of the woods yet. 126.8 pounds is exactly the amount Lilly needs to weigh in order to cross the threshold into normal BMI range. So she's still anorexic. She's still controlling every bite. I'm just relieved she's not an anorexic with liver and heart failure. Now if we could just get her to unclench. But how does she do that? I don't know how to do that. I'm obsessive compulsive (personality, not disorder). When I'm unhappy it gets worse. I used to write down everything I did during the day. I still sort of do that, but not to the extent I used to--where I couldn't ever do anything because I was too busy writing it down. I wrote things down because I felt guilty. I felt that I wasn't worth anything, and so I wrote down what I did to prove that I was doing something. This reached a fever pitch when I was married because my husband would accuse me of not doing anything. Taking care of young children is formless--it's so hard to pinpoint exactly what you do. The "mommy ghetto"--isn't that what it's called? The days would just be gone before I knew it. And I was really trapped inside the house. But my minute managing has really served me well, I think. I'm very productive. But I'm not very free. I think it's probably harmed Lilly. I think Lilly has received, by ongoing unrelieved example, my mindset. She probably received it in the womb. So is our family really happy? If we have problems, are we really happy?

Maybe I should leave it at this: we mostly function, love each other very much and treat each other well most of the time, and we are sometimes happy. There are problems, and there is tenderness and support. So I think that's ok. That sounds about like everyone else.

Saw Bright Star yesterday with Jay. Wrong movie to see. Good movie, but not the right one to see. During the credits, Keats poetry is read by the actor playing him. Jay leans over to me and whispers, "I think we know too many people in the audience to leave and not be considered philistines." I agreed and we sat gritting our teeth until it was done and we could go get a drink.

That's my 1/2 hour.