I'm amazed by the bravery of my two year old. I've been watching her lately... her dancing, exploring, lessons, tantrums... watching her become herself and how fearless she is in just 'putting it out there' without seeming a worry or concern over the consequence of doing so. I can't help but wonder what life would be like if I took the same measures. I wonder who would be on my side if I did?
It's been a week of ups and downs. Sometimes I still find it hard to wrap my head around the fact that I am a mom, that there are little people depending on me for peanut butter sandwiches, changing the channel and bums. And that I've become one of those ones where showers are optional, pajamas are a daily mainstay and there's not a bra in sight. I can honestly say I never expected to be here. And right now you could say that I'm mixed on the whole thing.
I love my kids. I would lay down my life for them, but when everyone in the kitchen is crying like their heart and leg broke simultaneously, when one has their hand so far into the peanut butter jar that their elbow is getting slimed and I could care less because really, if that's what they've decided they're going to eat for supper well atleast it's protein, and my father calls in the middle of it all and asks how it's going and my only reply is "honestly dad, it fucking sucks right now" and I mean it. Maybe I'm tired, frustrated, out of my element, who knows. I think if he could have, he would have given me a hug and on one hand I'm glad he couldn't because I would have been crying along with the rest of them. It doesn't help to be housebound due to the temperatures outside. Or the short days. Or the everything.
My friend Eric used to get frustrated with his ex-wife when they were still married. She was a stay at home mom with 2 boys close in age and Eric was an electrician running his own company, putting in 12 to 15 hour days. He could never understand why should would stay up so late and never come to bed. I understood with startling clarity tonight. Because no one wants or needs something from you. it's quiet, dark, and for the most fleeting of moments, you can hear your own thoughts. Just for a moment.
I suppose this is a life unexpected on my part. And just when I think I have a handle on it, can see it for what it is and believe I can find an opportunity for reason, the power goes out and I have to try to remember where everything was sitting while it was still light so I don't run into it headfirst. And while it's not quite a raging fumble, I'm forced to slow to nearly a standstill... to feel my way in the dark, inching through where I once tread freely, without care. In the light. atleast I don't dread the night anymore.
It's a season of change... for me... for my kids. From Sarah's crying to Ava's not been wanting to nap as much even though she and I both still need her to. I not sweepy mama she says to me. I no wike nap time. Don't wike quiet time. As she yawns and fights the inevitable. But then I have to laugh, because on some similar plane, I too am fighting the inevitable with a yawn. As I laid her down today I smiled as I walked by the same plaque that I walk by everyday. It's a fisherman's prayer that hangs by her door and says "Dear Lord be good to me for the sea is so big and my boat is so small. Amen"
Maybe that's where I'm at right now... maybe right now I just need to worry about staying afloat and worry about finding oars tomorrow.