I swear to you sometimes I think I’m borderline schizophrenic.
One minute, I am floating around our home watching the little kids play nicely with one another: giggling, hugging, having their own little conversations that no one but them would understand. I hear Maya ask me to help her get on her crutches so she can go to the bathroom and am so, so grateful that I get to be there for her when she needs someone. While I wish Jonah were here with us, I just love it so much that he’s out on the Vineyard getting to experience and appreciate different kinds of people and learning how to be responsible and proud of work that he’s doing. And, daydreaming about how helpful and loving and supportive Ben is of me and our family and everything that we have built around us and our relationship and our home and…it’s like doves are flying around our yard sprinkling love dust everywhere.
Then, like, as quickly as the wind blows, something happens…like, the little kids start, literally, trying to kill each other. Every time I try to sit down and write a blog post, Maya asks me for something and because I can’t stand motherly guilt and I want to help her so much I will immediately jump and do whatever she needs…and, then can’t remember where my brain was going with a thought so I have to start writing all over from the beginning. Then, I unfairly get pulled into a feeling that Jonah doesn’t miss me or even love me because he’s been away for almost a week and is having so much fun that he hasn’t called me. And, Ben falls asleep early with Bode while I’m downstairs taking care of the house and the rest of the kids and I start getting irrationally jealous that he’s getting *extra* sleep even though I’ve been “sleeping” in a sleeping bag on the living room floor for the last couple of nights so I can be next to Maya to help her go to the bathroom and take her medicine at 2:45am and be available in case she needs me for something in the middle of the night and am so tired that I’m starting to get that level of confusion where you’re not even making sense to yourself, let alone other people.
And, then I have a cup of coffee in my favorite mug while the sun shines in the window at just the right angle when I wake up in the morning and I see Maya’s little face and Ben comes down and gives me a hug without saying a word and Bode turns the corner in his little boy jammies and I hear Harley Love calling, “Mama!”…and, it’s like the doves come out again and I’m back on my little love rainbow and I’m so happy and grateful for everything around me that I can barely stand all of the goodness flowing through my veins.
I told Ben that I’m in that place that I remember being when I had a newborn around: so deliriously tired, but so ecstatically grateful that I sort of feel like I’m hungover.
But, I haven’t drank a drop of alcohol.
Which, come to think of it, doesn’t sound like such a bad idea right now.
But, I’m too tired to reach up to the third level shelf to get a wine glass…so, I’m out.