profess optimal control

by thankfeldenkrais

I’m always nervous,
When I’m there with Isaac,
For any major event.

But I’m more nervous,
When I’m not.

This time I choose not to be there for his Botox injections,
With the new babe nestled in for dreaming,
And daddy on duty,
Isaac is in good hands.

But I still cannot quite manage to relax.

I know I grip the reigns tightly,
Profess optimal control,
But that’s because I feel like I don’t have a choice.

When someones life is this complicated,
And that someone grew inside you,
Try and ask them to loosen their hold,
And see how it is virtually an impossibility.

And practicality demands,
Someone be the organiser,
The instigator,
The researcher,
The one who follows-through,
The note taker,
The scheduler,
The advocate,
The one who won’t take no for an answer.

But today with my breath held,
And a false-enthusiastic wave goodbye,
They’re off,
With my love and luck,
And knowing I’ve done the ground work with our combined review,
And managing to find a common ground,
Even if somewhat shaky.

Within the hour though,
The buzz of my phone alerts me to multiple texts,
From my husband,
They don’t want to do what we agreed upon.

I’m on the reply instantly,
Hot flushed cheeks,
And anxiety in my voice.

I just don’t understand,
We’ve been over this,
What could possibly be the problem?

A back and forth has me more frustrated,
And answers unresolved,
So despite my best intentions,
I still cannot manage to not be there.

Dumping a new born to Gran at work,
A blessing I don’t take for granted,
Unwilling to subject her to the wrath of fire burning in my throat,
Threatening to escape,
Or the germs of paediatric ward.

Fronting up,
Claws drawn,
I hate that it always seems to come down to this,
But I’ll do what it takes,
Letter in hand from our practitioner for reinforcement,
It’s war.

Isaac and daddy caught in the cross-fire,
After missing the opening act,
Are unable to keep up with the plot,
To no fault of their own.
For I am the one,
Attempting to write the script.

With one look at the scowl on my face,
A comforting arm rests on my shoulder,
He in charge,
Could sense my fury,
My genuine disbelief,
At why they agree to us dictating injection sites,
If they simply turn around with plans of their own?
Was it simply a turf war?

Dousing the flame before they ignite,
Assurances fall to follow our requests,
Power of authority snug by their side,
As if I’ve been mistaken by their viewpoint,
And yet,
Here I am,
Still required to front up,
To enforce what apparently they already knew.

A cease fire,
It would seem,
For now.

Dark humour clouds me,
What an ironic concept.

And this is why,
He needs me,
To be that person,
Willing to take on the fight.

And confused my little man emerges,
In his daddy’s safe shielding arms.
On both legs,
Injected with fifty per cent less than last time,
And no other muscles touched.

 Now let us just go home.


And see what mischief my boys can get up to,
The littlest of the two,
Hopefully somewhat more agile through his legs than before.

I hang up my gloves,
The fight is over.
For now.