HELLO, I\u2019M THE NOT-SO-MAGICAL V.<\/p>\n
\u201cViktorija, how do you manage to do everything?\u201d\u2014I read on the blue screen.
\n\u201cAnd you even look so happy\u2026\u201d\u2014I get an echo of agreement.<\/p>\n
It so happens that I read this sentence on my phone at the exact moment I haven\u2019t even escaped my morning robe yet, sleeves rolled up, chasing through the corners of the house with a broom.
\nGlancing at the stroller where My is napping, listening with one ear to what\u2019s happening in the older kids\u2019 rooms, seemingly \u201caccidentally\u201d tuning in to their remote classes.<\/p>\n
I shrug.
\nLook around.
\nBreathe in.
\nAnd laughing at myself in the hallway mirror, still keeping the message in mind, I blush:<\/p>\n
\u201cRight now I look like a disappointed housewife\u201d\u2014but shaking off that \u201cstuck-on\u201d status and embarrassed by the little \u201cmess\u201d I see, I quickly dash to the wardrobe and swap the robe for something more decent.
\nStep harder, life\u2014I won\u2019t fall behind.<\/p>\n
Lately, I keep receiving your letters, where you tell me about the \u201cjoys\u201d of motherhood and juggling tasks, and ask for the \u201crecipe\u201d for how my life ended up so white, so bright.
\nWhen there\u2019s so much darkness around, why is everything white in my world?<\/p>\n
Let me reassure you:
\n\u201cSaints don\u2019t cook pots\u201d\u2026
\nI\u2019m simple.
\nA woman with feet on the ground.
\nA daughter.
\nA wife.
\nA sister.
\nA promoter of my own business.
\nAnd\u2026 also.
\nA mom cubed.<\/p>\n
Currently living the charm of first- and fifth-grade remote learning.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, can you explain? Mom, I don\u2019t understand. Mom, how does this work?\u201d\u2014buzzing from different corners of the house.
\nI can help the first-grader with writing Lithuanian letters, but in fifth-grade math, in many cases, I raise the white flag and admit defeat.<\/p>\n
I also have My, a month old, in my arms, whose tummy adventures have begun.
\nAnd if the older kids today invited me to play the game \u201cMy Day,\u201d My added \u201cMy Nights.\u201d<\/p>\n
And also\u2026 I have a teenage-aged dog.
\nWho just waits to grab anything left out of place.<\/p>\n
Maybe it\u2019s not so bad\u2014order must exist.
\nIn short, it\u2019s fun 24\/7.<\/p>\n
Am I a \u201cturbo\u201d woman, born under a lucky star?
\nNo.
\nI haven\u2019t packed wings under my clothes.
\nI don\u2019t soar on rainbow paths.
\nI don\u2019t drink swan milk for lunch.
\nI don\u2019t worship unicorns.
\nI don\u2019t live in a greenhouse.
\nI stopped blindly believing in fairy tales along with the black-and-white horses of my childhood.<\/p>\n
It rains here too.
\nWe have storms.
\nAnd piles of dirty laundry regularly appear.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t have perfectly clean houses all the time.
\nIt gets dusty.
\nMessy.
\nAnd \u201ccrumpled.\u201d
\nSometimes I don\u2019t manage to wash my hair.
\nAnd somehow\u2026 for one reason or another, I have to skip a visit to the manicurist.<\/p>\n
Just recently, such a \u201cskip\u201d happened:<\/p>\n
\u201cDid your nail fall off??\u201d\u2014Do lifts his wide, frightened eyes when a layer of gel peels off my nail after prolonged wear.
\n\u201cNoooo\u201d\u2014I show him my nail, I have nails\u2026 and I usually don\u2019t lose them.
\nAt the worst times, pimples appear.
\nSometimes I gain a little weight.
\nSometimes I don\u2019t like myself.
\nI get headaches occasionally.
\nAnd I don\u2019t always shoot fireworks of an impressive mood.<\/p>\n
I get tired.
\nMy kids sometimes get sick.
\nSometimes they\u2019re grumpy.
\nSometimes school doesn\u2019t go well.
\nSometimes they frown at the home-cooked meals I prepared with care.<\/p>\n
I roll up my sleeves every day and spin around the pots.
\nI tango around the house holding the vacuum or broom \u201cby the arm.\u201d
\nI wash.
\nTake out stains.
\nPatch accidental holes.
\nFold hundreds of little pants and socks.
\nRun to buy clothes that are too small or accidentally ripped.
\nAnd again shoes that are outgrown.
\nLost gloves.
\nI change diapers.
\nSometimes very many times a day.
\nI console myself that even in our childhood, they didn\u2019t exist.
\nAnd \u201cdiapers\u201d had to be washed by our parents when we fell asleep.<\/p>\n
I sometimes don\u2019t sleep at night.
\nSometimes because I\u2019m bonding with My, sometimes because I can\u2019t sleep from a flood of thoughts.<\/p>\n
My phone buzzes almost without stop.
\nSometimes with joy.
\nMore often: \u201cV., something happened, what do we do?\u201d<\/p>\n
I am not always stylish.
\nDressed up.
\nMade up.
\nComposed.
\nSometimes my arms drop.
\nI sometimes cry.
\nAnd people treat me unfairly.
\nI make mistakes.
\nI get painful lessons.
\nI learn.
\nSometimes I \u201cstep on the same rake\u201d again.
\nEven though I firmly believe that only failures behave like that.<\/p>\n
Every day I \u201cjuggle\u201d all human problems.
\nAbove my head, the sun doesn\u2019t shine any brighter.
\nAnd the grass on our side of the fence is certainly not greener\u2026<\/p>\n
Over the years I\u2019ve learned one thing:
\nNOT TO GET UPSET OVER SMALL THINGS.
\nAnd not to get mixed up in the terms:
\n\u201cSolvable problems are not problems. They are just temporary inconveniences.\u201d<\/p>\n
When it gets hard and I feel the dam of tears starting to build\u2026 you know which thoughts I shake myself with?
\nI AM HEALTHY.
\nAnd everyone I love most IS HEALTHY.<\/p>\n
After My was born, we spent his first days in the hospital room, from whose window we could see the Oncology Institute building.
\nWhen I would sit at night to feed him, I looked at the unblinking lights in the round building before my eyes\u2026
\nand felt happy.<\/p>\n
FINAL:
\nWhen I lift my eyes to the sky and see that it\u2019s gray,
\nI\u2019ve learned not to shout that it\u2019s going to rain.
\nPeople are not stupid.
\nThey see forecasts on their blue phones.
\nAnd they know how to lift their noses.<\/p>\n
But in that cloudy sky\u2026
\nYou can see brightly feathered birds diving with joy.
\nAnd if you want really badly\u2014through the \u201cbasement\u201d clouds, a \u201cheart\u201d shape starts forming in your eyes.<\/p>\n
It begins to rain.
\nLike for everyone.
\nSo it is for me too.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s just a matter of perspective what we see around us:
\nWhether puddles in the yard\u2026 huddled passersby and the gray, clouded sky.
\nOr enjoy the tapping of rain on the windows and think\u2026 could it get any cozier?<\/p>\n
If you recognized yourself in this \u201cscribble,\u201d
\nI\u2019m glad.
\nWe have a lot in common.<\/p>\n
Not-so-magical,
\nV.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"template":"","class_list":["post-17647","istorija","type-istorija","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija\/17647","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/istorija"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17647"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}