Save me, I'm melting...

Witches melt in the rain, it is a commonly known fact, and though it isn't raining, I think, the grass in the back yard and the cement slab of a patio were moist which may just explain my dissolving borders. I feel like a bad mother and a bad daughter all wrapped up in one. I finished my essayistic approach to critical theory with a whole 20 minutes to spare before my 3 o'clock class, but then I realized that I needed a little more time to proof-read, and I have been fiddling with the already handed-in paper, more for my own satisfaction (ocd anyone?) than anything else. Problem is, I never know if my writing is any good. Now this particular essay I wrote in English, which made it that much easier, that is, I pulled out 12 pages in roughly six hours (I started last night at around 7 but crashed around 11 - I have never been good at working with my brain late into the night)... but I now will cower in suspense, expecting her to eviscerate me. Oh how I wish I had an objective critic to tell me if I am full of crap or not...

I got home at 8:30, and the neighbor had invited the girlchild to her house. It is funny, they are from Xalapa, and their daughter is 10 and not terribly interested in I., but the mom, it seems, likes having a small person around. It is a reliving of our own children that we mothers tend to do, although right now the thought of a small child is not only unappealing, but apalling. M. said the other day that he was wanting to see me pregnant again. Fat fucking chance. (no pun intended). There are only very limited circumstances under which I would like to have another baby, and none of them are currently being met. Mostly one is a handful. I met this woman who presented at the conference this weekend, Claudia. She was Argentine, and incidentally quite interesting and had lived for several years off of a boat, finally settling in Guatemala with her husband and daughter, only to have two more children, move to the states and divorce. Now her youngest is 5 and her ex is living in an eco-village that they constructed in Guatemala, and her kids spend several months a year with their dad. There is something irresistibly appealing about the idea of splitting up parenting duties in that fashion, and this by no means bears any relation to my current relationship, but having 4 carefree summer months... well needless to say, I am merely fantasizing out loud. My mom called and I was so tired. As I said, I feel like a terrible daughter because where I used to talk to her daily when we lived 20 minutes from one another, 3,500 miles away, I simply run out of things to say. I feel like my life is so different here, and that my conversational needs are being met in so many other ways, that I just can't seem to muster the requisite enthusiasm. I love my parents, I really do, but I feel like we just keep having the same conversation over and over, me having somehow grown distant, hermetic, inpenetrable. Of course these are also M.'s complaints, little I. is the only one with whom I feel my relationship hasn't suffered drastically over the last 9 months or so... but maybe I am just fooling myself there too.
So... I guess it is time to go back to the texts that are waiting for me, or to bed, or both:)