liminal space

This is a weird time.  We are coming out of the extreme monkish-cloistered-SAHM-in-a-Pandemic time; slowly, creakingly.  There are moments now when I feel completely supported.  A neighbor comes by in a pinch to hang with the kiddos for 30 minutes so I can regain my sanity and get a crock pot dinner started.  Grandparents and Noah take the kids for an outing and I am free to practice violin and cook dinner.  

We've even hired our first baby-sitter.  I refused to pay for childcare with Isabel; she was such an easy, sweet, mellow baby that it felt weird to pay people for enjoying her delightful company. And it worked fine; tons of people DID want to hang out with her.  Leo is equally delightful but he's also a house on fire and the first time this teenager called out "We're going for a walk!" I felt a rush of joy and freedom.  AHHH to not feel responsible for making my kid's company an easy, pleasant experience!

I am starting to glimpse moments where it DOES seem possible to accomplish all of the basic things without turning into a screaming volcano of stress (cook, clean, laundry, care lovingly for the kids) and even starting to glimpse moments where for a heartbeat, there is no immediate fire to put out, nothing screaming for attention (externally or internally) so that I may sit, quietly, looking out the window and let thoughts and feelings stream through me until they sift down to a tug in some direction.  

To be fair.  That last miracle just happened for the first time yesterday morning.   

But it gave me a bit of whiplash when just a few short hours later I found myself back in the eternal afternoon, following Leo around as he tirelessly poked through the neighbors bushes, my mind descending into that special numbing boredom and loneliness of watching an adorable kid alone for hours on end.  

It seems that: the more bored, disconnected, unsupported that I feel, the more I resort to the mind-numbing anti-nourishment self-care of FB scrolling and food (those chocolate coconut lumps from Elwood basically fuel my days).  And the more I am able to function like a human (clean the bathroom, talk to adults), the more I am able to make choices that truly feed me.  Like: writing, playing music, meditating or just staring into space instead of at a screen....

Really; just slowing down enough to exhale and CHOOSE my next action instead of letting my anxious chest yank me forward towards the nearest fire.

Bonus content: 

Me: "Isabel, are you chortling with delight?"

Isabel (pointing): "NO! I'm chortling with THAT light over THERE!"