Feelings, Nothing More Than Feelings

I realised in my last post that I managed to be both abjectly apathetic and giddily excited. Somehow not complimentary feelings, and yet true under the circumstances.

And nothing says conflicting emotions like more youthful poetry! I don't know why, but I'm terribly amused by my youth these days (not that my youth is behind me...)

5-y-o rage, 2-y-o jealousy (Per E.) (Nov. 98 R.E.)
a description of your
five-year-old rage
goes like this:
frustration that hyperventilates
over nothing but frustration
and an inability to communicate,
hate that you cannot understand;
my bruised body on the brink
of alcoholism at the dinner table
and patience that exists
only in the imagination.

your two-year-old jealousy is:
blond, curly hair
and short, like silk
that demands attention
and curiosity,
a guttural laugh
and a giggle;
twice what you are
and yet not at all,
love and hate
and bittersweet,
that's all.

Now that I have kids, that has a bit of a new meaning, even though my kids totally love each other.