There isn't a moment that goes by that I don't wonder what I should be doing. Should I be working full-time? Should I share that post? Maybe the dishes instead of laundry? Can I write? Is another show too much? When's the last time we ate, Does anyone know what time it is?, Is it more than a cold? One commitment, or another. There are so many, but sometimes it feels like there's not enough. A dear friend once told me her mom would always say, You'll fill whatever time you have. Isn't that the truth? But when you attempt to trace the points of, I did this, or Oh, I finished that, it's hard to recall. Or is it hard to recall for just me? (I'm so tired.)
Something I didn't realize before I had kids is that you can't just teach your kids how to sleep. I mean, you can, in like a hundred different ways and those can really, really help but babies are still people (I forget that.) and sometimes they can't be put down like sleeping robots only to wake up after the sun is up twelve hours later. There's nightmares, wet diapers, thirst, strange noises. It all adds up to a wail from the other room, or pitter patter feet to the bathroom. (Or our room.)
I don't want to look back on now and think, I wish I had been there more. I'm here all the time but I don't want to have regrets. I think the only way to fulfill that wish it remind myself every day. You're here now. They're this little now. It doesn't have to be perfect, the hard stuff is temporary, it's already gotten easier. Look at his baby hands. Look at his brother's slappy feet and easy smile. Look at that backwards shirt, those rosy cheeks, smell them they smell like outside. It's going to go by so fast. I know it. Hold on.
Yesterday our oldest slipped out the back door and when he looked back to see if I saw him, I laughed. He smirked at me and said, "Mom, what's wrong with your eyes? I can't see your eyes when you waf." Later that day, when we put the baby down for bed, he jubilantly yelled, "Nite nite Sondre Star Sondre! Wuv you!" and Sondre solemnly waved, waved, waved back at his brother, sleepy and just as serious about their nighttime traditions as his brother. Si trotted his brother's warm bottle up the stairs because "it's too heavy for you, mama. Too heavy when you have to carry Sondre too." and pushed it over the top of the crib bars, into the bed, just where Sondre would find it.
There are few things that feel clear when my head is tired, but I feel so full. I feel so lucky. It turns out Year of My People is a team effort.