Thursday 24 March 2011

I think we're alone now

This is desktop wallpaper called, Quiet, Still, Alone.
I guess this day was bound to happen.

Mark away for the day.
Lewis at nursery.
Me freaking hallelujah on my own on a day during the week, with no clients. 

It is a day I have fantasised about. 
No one to pay attention to except me. No nap schedule except my own. I could have on loudest music or be ensconced in calm silence. I could go see a matinee. Or wander aimlessly.  Or walk with purpose and intent to get somewhere. Somewhere NEW! Somewhere that babies aren't allowed. OR I could read! Or think clever thoughts. Call friends. Do some marketing for coaching. Take a water wastingly long, hot shower.

It is now 1:30 in the afternoon.

No long leisurely shower.  (OK any shower for that fact)

No smart thoughts about anything.

No dancing in my underwear a la Risky Business.

I dropped off the boy and ...

I have eaten nachos.

I have washed and folded 3 loads of laundry.

I have emptied the dishwasher and all the garbages. 

I have organized the recyclables.

I managed a Sainsbury delivery.

I changed the sheets.

And I have cleaned the flat.

And now, I think ... I don't know what do.

There is only a little bit more free time.  It is fleeting. And going fast.

This is what happens, I think, to mothers. First reaction is to do the normal things. 

And do them in peace. And fast. And with concentration.  Alone. Blissfully.

It feels so relaxing to be alone. To take one's eyes off the ball (or kid as it were) and just let the mind flop a bit. 

Is this the new dream? To be silent in my brain? Those other things sure sound nice. And what feels even nicer is to know those things are still out there.

I just think I'd need several weeks of this quiet to remember how. 

Saturday 12 March 2011

going under

Friday's  note from the Universe told me that wisdom arrives in silence.

Silent is what I have been feeling lately. Not that I have nothing to say. But more that my words go in circles. I find myself at a weird juncture, causing me to walk carefully without attachment to my current situation.

Looks like dear husband's job really really going to end soon and we are now looking at some rather dramatic options to our next step. Rent out our (lovely, big, perfect) flat and go live somewhere for as free as possible. In Laws. And await a job. And decide if the US is that next place to be.

This level of Get Ready to Jump is putting my running our household/laundry doing/house stocking/cleaning/care taking//friendship nurturing /social outreach right into a state of emergency. And then ultimately a state of unattachment.

Do I have to let go of *this* in order to reach what's next? How tight is my grip on keeping things the same? What am I preventing by this? What do I need to let go of? What's really important here? What's scaring me about leaving? What scares me about staying?

Yeah- those are the twilrlings in my noggin. All big thinkings and all insider jobs, done a bit in, well, silence.

What's emerging in that silence is sometimes complete acceptance. (Hey, I am not MARRIED to Glasgow, we can make new friends and lighten our load of *stuff* and just GO. ) Othertimes it is more desparate clinging and hand wringing (I LOVE our home, we finally own everything, I love our friends and the neighbourhood and out life here and Lew is happy and we are settled, finally settled for a while and I DON'T WANNA GO. Stamp foot.)

What else is emerging is that I have done this all before. What I need is trust. Hope. Lean into what's possible, dream more about what it is we WANT in our future. ( I see Seattle, a cute house, Mark's GREAT job, more babies and a lovely lifestyle)

AND AND AND ... it may be something else.  Something I have not yet dreamed of.

What I know is it matters that we are a) together b) happy c) OK.

The rest can come.

Even as I type I can feel the undercurrents of this going under.

It resonates.

When I am silent. 

Wednesday 9 March 2011

upwardly mobile

Two developments have really surfaced these last weeks.

We have a full-on bonified WALKING boy. Outside. In the World. Where there is glass and cigarette butts and giant bumpy holes in the sidewalk where little feet can trip. Where cars/trucks/bikes/taxis/buses and all manner of the wheeled which we look at and point to from the pram or out the window in our flat are  in 3-D... zooming past, parked on the street and omnipresent. 

Mixing with the world
Nursery for 2 days a week. It was a rough entry for me us.  It was hard to be away from him and he came home absolutely exhausted. But within weeks he slept there, played HARD at really fun things that we don't have at home (music class and giant cars and 8 other toddlers), charmed the ladies and now runs to get there in the morning.  I vacillate from missing him and exuberant rejoicing. I run around the house like  on speed and cram in all the Need 2 Hands jobs. I eat lunch in front of the TV. I savour the quiet. And zooooom. It is time to get him. I get excited butterflies as I walk down the stairs to get him at the nursery.  It is a blissful reunion each day. He is all smiles and all arms out running towards me. For that alone -- the short time apart so we really really miss each other and are excited to be back in each other's company, it is worth it.