2nd childhood

From what I have glimpsed of it,
it explains many things about being the mother with a small child.

The arrival of body functions at frequent intervals,
no delay, the sun suddenly comes out, or goes in.

The near complete absence of relationship to me,
it's a one way black hole. Protect myself. Also give.

The breakdown of my own life within a few days,
split into moments of this and that.

The ever present present, I stand there saying:
what was I doing, what am I doing?

My swift development of ruses to escape from a world where
requests pile on top of requests.

The pleasure of 5 minutes staring out of a windscreen at
steady hills in the distance.

The impossibility of putting any of it into words,
it all sounds vacuous, trite, plain wrong and misses the point.

The person changes from interaction to interaction,
no description is fair or true, just a bad attempt.

These are my reflections now on how it felt a few weeks ago,
not pretty, but real, intense, unavoidable.

When I had small children I was unaware of all this
and how it is the way things are, I see that now.

I bounced back quickly this time, but it was only a month,
not long years of night and day.

...

I have now given this a good edit. I am still uneasy with it. I'd written in single lines across the post window, but the published window is narrower, so I had to change it all into pairs of lines. Each long single line was meant to stand alone from the next. I could copy it onto a text edit file and print it off for myself as I want it to be.

...

From what I have glimpsed of it, it explains what being the mother is.

The arrival of body functions at intervals, no delay, the sun comes out.

The near absence of relationship to me, a one way black hole. Give.

The breakdown of my own life within a few days, split into moments. 

The ever present present, I stand there saying: what am I doing?

My swift deployment of ruses to escape from a world of requests.

The pleasure of 5 minutes staring out of a windscreen at steady hills.

The impossibility of putting any of it into words, I miss the point.

The person changes from interaction to interaction, no description is true.

These are my reflections now on how it felt a few weeks ago, unavoidable.

When I had small children I was living it, not seeing it.

I bounced back quickly this time, but it was only a month.

...

I like having to chop words out quickly, replacing them with shorter ones, making quick decisions. No version is final, all of them could be played with to make something else entirely.