Violet is almost 1 month old! It's hard to believe how fast the time goes despite how cliche it sounds and how little I feel I've done since her birth. Vacuum? Too loud. Laundry? Down a flight of stairs with two kids and a laundry basket? Not gonna happen. Leave the house? Convince me it's worth the work and I might consider it during the nonexistent moments between sleeping, nursing, crying, and pooping. Oh, and the blood curdling screaming from point A to point B. Cook? Don't remind me of my wasting-away family that I already have tremendous guilt over. But fear not! I am turning over a new leaf with the help of Feeding the Whole Family (awesome) and a successful trip to the grocery store (I never thought this would leave me with such a sense of accomplishment.)
We did manage to make it through my obligatory Olive Garden birthday dinner, largely due to the fact that they gave us our own section and two waitresses (did we look that terrifying?) So what if life has relinquished some of its bells and whistles? Turns out it was just a bunch of extra noise. Nowadays when anyone asks me what I did today, I tell them, 'I kept em alive.' And you know what? I'm damn well proud of myself.
I struggle with that whole 'living in the moment' thing. Believe me, I read a lot of zen-mama blogs in hopes that their endlessly tranquil, ultra creative, simple yet stimulating havens of family life will rub off on me. But alas...I still can't knit or even remember to breathe before uttering another 'STOP that!' or 'No!' or 'You're not listening! Why aren't you listening?' I'm still waiting for my 21 month old to answer that one.
Ahhh, knitting. It sure seems to bring Soulemama's life into complete balance. The meditative act of twisting yarn into something beautiful and, more importantly, something you can do while caring for little ones is enticing. I want that. I want to feel fulfilled while fulfilling my children's needs. I want to make room for more pauses. I know it's not knitting. But it might be knitting. Or cooking, dancing, or breathing, or praying, or walking, or writing, or gardening (Gardening!) The quiet work of living that makes you realize you have everything. You have always had everything. And right now, you have a very special kind of everything.
Here's to sweet sleeping sisters, amazing uncles, birthday candles, Grandpas coloring inside the lines, father-daughter moments, and my two beautiful girls in pajamas.