Credo stasera di aver capito perchè nel tempo ho finito per scrivere meno assiduamente.
Perchè, con i bambini che stanno crescendo (e diciamocelo pure, Marta fa 14 anni fra due settimane quindi il termine ragazzi comincia a starci proprio, qui, mio malgrado) il mio blog lo scrivo con loro la sera, ora, molto più spesso.
Voglio dire, quel processo lì, a fine giornata, quella scrittura che non sai che pesci pigliare e butti tutte le carte sul tavolo alla rinfusa, per costringerti a vederle di botto insieme, a farti qualche domanda e a risponderti, con qualche titubanza, rincorrendo un ordine presunto, anche falso, purchè ti dia un po' di calma.
Proprio in quel processo lì, ora capita spesso che mi ci trascini mia figlia, la mia ragazza.
All'ora dello sparecchio.
L'ora dello sparecchio è quella in cui Giacomo alzandosi dalla sedia si mette d'improvviso una mano sul fianco, accompagnandola da un urlo di dolore e dichiarando con smorfia labio-facciale intonata alla circostanza: "Aaaahhh, le giunture! la mia artrite!". E Davide mi guarda pallido in faccia e mi dice: "Mamma, devo, devo proprio andare in bagno altrimenti me la faccio addosso!"
Rimaniamo in cucina solo io e lei, e lei mi fa domande che non so che pesci pigliare. Mentre le rispondo, buttando fuori pensieri dalla pancia, mi accorgo che nel tentativo di darle una strada plausibile, ne trovo una anche per me stessa. Anzi, proprio le parole piano piano dipanano e spianano.
Stasera era la sera dell'invischiamento adolescenziale in, "he said so and so, but, Mom! you see yourself that is unacceptable, morally, intellectually, ethically ( so on, that here the middle ground are never on the agenda, in this nice age). And then I told him that if he wanted to continue to think so but then it did leave me alone. And then he said I'm arrogant and I think I'm better. And then I said that he was superior. And then he, and then I ....."
Incidentally, some of this history lies peacefully on their boards of Facebook, where each "then" referred to here is a "dick", and all subjunctive a "pussy" in proportion (so, for the record of horrified mother).
However, in the blink of an eye I found myself quoting the great history and literature, to make them understand how the difference of opinion does not resolve the challenge but with the involvement of the other charismatic in their own ideas. I even brought up Sun Tzu and even myself (when Philip handpiece to a dinner with 20 relatives).
And down to explain that what is said does not matter, it matters more the perception of the listener. And what the listener may have a history different from yours and it did not have the experience to get to know what you mean.
And that the real power is in the hands of those who can understand the others, rather than to those who can prevail.
I even ventured to add that a conviction can always change (which caused a pause in the conversation that you could hear a pin dropping on the floor rumble).
Then, I miss was the result of a brief between world powers, is out of the question this sentence: "Dialogue is always an approximation to approach a concept."
At the same time across from the bathroom, the voice stress of David, not making him happy, but into the process, laughing, shouting, 'that belloooo! " (Obviously not referring to the phrase - we are a family of crazy, I know)
"Mom, scriviamola on the kitchen wall with a marker," said Marta.
"No, Martha, I do not feel. This wall is pure white, is our new kitchen, just painted our new house"
"Mom, do you pregooo!"
I was just going to say "okay", but I swear that the wall is truly immaculate and the kitchen is truly the most beautiful kitchen I could ever wish for.
And if you change your mind? And then there's Philip
mica and want to write a sentence with a permanent marker so without asking what they think.
"Look, Martha, let's do this. The writing on a sheet and hang on the wall. We leave it there for a few days. Maybe there is to correct a bit '. And then a few days whether we like it just yet, if we do not change your mind, we move on to permanent marker on the wall immaculate. Ok?
"Ok, Mom."
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