The Longest Shortest Time

Museum of Accidents

Given the choice between prose and poetry, I will always choose prose. Well, almost always. My very favorite writer is Richard Brautigan, and most of his writing is poetry—even his novels are basically epic poems.

I think my problem with poetry is that I know it’s supposed to appeal directly to my emotions but I often find it so much work to decipher that my head is worn out before I can feel anything. These days I’m often desperately seeking things to read by other moms that make me feel something. That make me feel like other women get what I’m going through. I mean really get it. Like, deeply. The debate surrounding that Anne-Marie Slaughter article from the Atlantic has just made me feel like nobody is listening to each other. Like nobody gets each other. Or people are intentionally misunderstanding each other. Don’t get me wrong, the debate is important. But I’m just feeling like, of all the smart women I’ve heard commenting on this complex topic of mothering and working, nobody has represented in an emotionally honest way how mothering effects my work or how my work effects my mothering.

And then I read Museum of Accidents by poet and doula Rachel Zucker, a recommendation by Joanne of our most recent podcast episode.

Wow. Zucker’s poem “Paying Down the Debt: Happiness” captures exactly what it’s like being a mom trying to work at home as a writer while your kids are demanding things and demanding not to have things and getting sick and getting you sick and making you do forgetful, stupid-bordering-on-dangerous things and meanwhile you are supposed to be Getting Things Done. I know that’s pretty specific—being an at-home writer mom but I feel like this poem will speak to any at-home mom or any mom juggling work and home life. You should just read it, but I found myself going over and over this line that ends, “I’m the mother in smothered.”

The whole book, a mere 78 pages, can be devoured in one sitting, and will bring tears to your eyes over not remembering your pre-mom self, depression, miscarriage, your morphed relationship with your partner, your permanently altered body. No matter how you define “all” when you talk about women having it all, you have no doubt been touched by one of these losses that makes that ALL feel a little less ALL-ish. Read this book. If you have ever felt misunderstood by the panel of mommy “experts” out there, you are bound to find something in here that will make you think, Finally, someone knows what I’m feeling. What I’m mourning. Deep, deep down.