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I usually look forward to the slow down of work come winter–time to get life in order and spend more time with my family. Toward the end of fall I start coming up with plans to make up time missed with my kids on weekends and reimburse the love missed with my short temper from stress and “not now!”s. It’s a difficult balance–being responsible for your child’s every day, every moment with no one to hand them off to. All while trying to keep a business afloat, up to date, and desirable…and fulfilling your own needs to do what you feel is right. Come November every year, I have quit twenty times over, and sworn “I won’t work this hard next year,” or promised I’d be a better, more attentive parent.
While this year was no different from any of the above, I find myself in the same place as I was a year ago, pregnant, exhausted, and struggling.
First. I’m excited now, finally. Once the shock of being pregnant again faded, excitement begins to unfold in my heart to bring our final family member into our lives. But please don’t mistake that for unbridled pregnancy bliss. My body wasn’t meant to be pregnant. The pain that comes from it is sometimes unreal and always annoying, I can’t stay away from sicknesses that are passed around, and this time, I LITERALLY just had a baby and my body is mad!
Today I ran to the grocery store after picking up Tessa from 4k, to grab tomatoes that were needed for tonight’s dinner…a quick stop (and $100 later) and I was nearly walking to my car in tears from the pregnancy pain I was experiencing coupled by exhaustion from a sleepless night between Adelaide and discomfort. All my plans for the day got moved–my bathroom still isn’t cleaned, I probably won’t finish the laundry tonight and the craft I hoped to do with Tessa while Addy napped never even crossed my mind. Instead, I layed on the couch.
I layed on the couch and watched my daughter entertain herself. She’d hop from My Little Pony role play melodrama, to coloring books, to dance parties, to crafting alone and then start it all over again. All while, stopping by the couch to tell me how much she loves me, give me a hug, and ask if I need anything. She is really, seriously, probably, the best 4 year old on earth. (And I’m probably the worse mother on earth).
I don’t deserve her. She has an infectious spirit and a compassionate soul. She loves so hard it hurts her sometimes and she may have invented the saying “make lemonade out of lemons” in her past life. I am absolutely certain that she was put in my life to teach me what it is all about. Any misconceptions I had before her vanished when she was born and the world became so much clearer, so much bigger, so much more important than anything within myself when she came roaring onto the scene.
Most every afternoon you can find her whizzing throughout her normal home activities. But this spot right here, it’s the spot that will be engrained into my brain and my heart forever. She takes the time she needs to be alone. To create, or plan. To do whatever comes to her. She sits at the table and she plans the march of the future with every scribble, and googley eye. A free thinker, a passionate soul. This is where my future is born each afternoon, and for that I am undoubtedly lucky.
