Archive for the ‘grace in small things’ Category

After The Teacups

May 22, 2009

Yesterday was my birthday. I have very little reflective to say about that because, you know, anything that I might say would probably have something to with growing old (I grow old, I grow old) and not getting enough cake. And that would just sound pinched and ungrateful and unhappy, which is not how it is, not how it is at all.

Not how it is at all.

So I will hold my words for now, for today, and just enjoy the sunshine.

Love Thursday, Friday Edition: The Beckoning Of The Bicycle

March 27, 2009

I have trouble keeping my days of the week straight. Also, my seasons. Is it spring yet?

God, I hope so. We have some bike-ridin’ to do.

(Love Thursday. Is lovely. And is beckoning lovely. Come, lovely, come. On a little red-trimmed, sparkly-streamered bicycle, come.)

Out Like A Lamb

March 9, 2009

I don’t understand how this works, but for some reason, getting away by myself for one night this past weekend seems to have caused me to become even more tired than I am usually. Of course, the fact that getting away for that one night involved flying to New York and attending an event that was by some turns thought-provoking and by others head-exploding (more on that at some later date, when head-combustion is less of a threat to the structural integrity of my psyche) and, in the process, suffering near-intolerable nursing-boob-related pain (relieved only under circumstances that, again, must wait until I am considerably less tired to be explained and discussed) goes some distance to explaining why I am so tired. It does not, however, explain why I feel so emotionally fatigued, why I feel so utterly tapped-out, so completely drained of any will or energy to write/create/stand upright.

Spring is pressing upon my window, and I feel in my bones that the coming season will bring good things (a baby who sleeps through the night in his crib, who takes an occasional bottle – both causes were advanced by my night away – renewed energy for me, renewed spirit, sunshine) but at the moment I just feel limp. Lifeless. Maybe this is just late-arriving winter dormancy; maybe it is just March coming in like a depressed lion. I don’t know.

Whatever it is, it requires that I sleep. And eat, maybe, and try to not worry, for the moment, about finding ways to express things that have hurt my heart or my brain. That, and watch the entire first season of Gossip Girl over the course of an afternoon while eating chocolate and popcorn. I need a day, or two.

And a little mental space to enjoy me my sunshine.

Grace In Small Things: Stolen Moment In Dark Of Night Edition

February 1, 2009

It is the middle of the night. I am in a dark hotel room, my babies asleep within arms reach. I am listening to them breathing. I am listening, and I am loving the sound, the reassuring rhythm of the sound of their sleep. They will wake – sooner, later – and I will wrap my arms around them and kiss them and hush them and we will snuggle together and they will sleep and I will lay awake and we will pass the night and we will be happy, all of us. Even me, in my tiredness. I will be happy. I am happy

We have taken a little holiday, just we three. We have spent the day playing and eating and playing and swimming and eating and playing, just us, and then with good friends, and then just us again. There has been no Internet, no television, no distraction. Just us. Just us, and the untrammeled joy of just being just us.

Tomorrow, we’ll play some more. And eat some more and swim some more. And then we’ll go dancing. And we will laugh, a lot.

And then we’ll go home and we will hug and kiss our fourth and we will wade back into the mess and busy-ness of home and work and life. Laptops will spring open. Televisions will be turned on. The buzz and hum will resume.

But we will be happy, because we will know that we can always turn off the buzz and hum, that we can always escape, even if we never step out the front door. Because we are each other’s greatest joy.

We always know that. Sometimes it takes a little break to remind us, but we always know that.

We always know.

Edited, late Sunday
: from the vantage point of the day following an entirely sleepless night, this sentence – “
and they will sleep and I will lay awake and we will pass the night and we will be happy, all of us. Even me, in my tiredness. I will be happy” – reads like 50% nonsense, 30% delusion and maybe 20% rambling sentimentalism. The sentimentalism, fine – I do adore my children and I do consider myself happy and I am so glad to have taken a technology break this weekend – but really. Exhaustion sucks rancid cow poo, and I was not – I repeat, NOT – happy to get only five minutes’ sleep last night. They are my greatest joy, yes, but they just might be trying to kill me, too.

Grace In Small (Imaginary) Things: Day 1/375

January 26, 2009

I don’t know what any of these things are, but they sound wonderful:

1) Pretty sauce;

2) Honey Jolly Balls;

3) Lollipop juice.

Together, I think that they’d make an awesome meal. Hold the meatballs, though.

(Learn more about Grace In Small Things here. Thanks, Schmutzie.)