A is waking up as I type this, slowly but surely. This is the first time all week he’s napped somewhere other than on my body, and I spent most of said nap finally attempting to bring some order to our living/dining room, which has been in chaos for days. I am ignoring the fact that M’s room is also a disaster, and that the dishes and the food in the kitchen cabinets are scattered wildly, and the fact that I have barely had motivation to write for the things that help me professionally, let alone personally.
So I’m squeezing this in in those five minutes before he fully open his eyes — it is what it is. I’m lucky to have a year of maternity leave, lucky to be able to afford keeping M in preschool through the winter and spring, and so this is what I do. I take each day as it comes. On Tuesday I spent basically all day sitting with a friend at the community playgroup while A napped on me and her daughter played independently. On Wednesday I didn’t get out of sweatpants. Next week I have meetings I need to attend whether or not my kid cooperates. Some days I do nothing; some days I try to do all the things I couldn’t do on the days when I did nothing.
I feel fairly zen about it. My expectations are low. If I get fresh air a handful of times a week, if I get some time once a day to take for myself, if I feed myself and cross a few things off the to-do list, it’s all good. I’m not worried about routines; I know that one day this kid will sleep all by himself and it’s easier for me to work on his timeline rather than mine.
I’ve talked before about the seasons of life and how each one calls for various approaches. This is the unpredictable season — the I can’t really make plans season, the I choose sleep over nearly everything else season. It won’t last forever, and then we’ll be onto the next season, the one where the baby is sitting up and being delightful in all new ways.
So I may check in and out of here on an entirely sporadic basis. If I could somehow wire my words from my brain directly to the screen I would — there are lots of things I think about, lots of blog posts I mentally compose. But I can’t do that, so all I can do is try to hold the thread somewhere in my mind and come back to it later. Today, I’m here.