My body aches from hiding pockets of anxiety in its every nook and cranny. My heart explodes when my 3yo runs up to me and reports that
"Hayden" (new acquaintance from the playground) "hugged me and it made my heart beat".
My heart breaks a little bit every damn time my 1.5 yo cries pitifully for Mama.
All I want is to be alone, eat brownies, listen to Krishna Das at top volume, disappear into the absorbing ecstasy of playing irish fiddle tunes, putter in my garden.
All I want is to cuddle my babies forever, even as they grow into not-babies.
All I want is to start running and not stop, board a train for NYC and disappear into the bubbling masses.
All I want is to see my babies' faces light up with sweet joy when they see me coming down the stairs.
All I want is to aimlessly wander the aisles of Kroger or Lowes or Target.
...and sit and watch the river
...and never talk to anyone again
...and talk and laugh all day with other insane moms about the extra special insanity of momness
...and just be me out in the world with my fiddle and my feet, free and wandering
...and step out of this body that seems to pinch and pull at every turn.
...and crawl into bed and never come out.
For a couple of weeks in early January, I would put Leo to bed around 7:30p,. His room exits right into ours. I would stand next to the bed for a moment, listening to Noah and Isabel downstairs. And each day, more than anything I just wanted to crawl under the covers and close my eyes to world. The first time I gave into the temptation, it was amazing. And then it became irresistible. After about a week of this, Noah got curious:
"What is this part of your life where you just lie unmoving on the bed, staring into the dark?" he asked.
The very best part my friend. The very best part.
