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Tuesday, September 10, 2013

its all just... much. Its all just so much.

I've got an actual physical need for chocolate right now. (noIamNOTpregnant.)

Which is why, throughout our day today I have been creeping upstairs to quietly gnaw on frozen baking chocolate, standing with freezer door open, trying to hide, lest a small child find me and call me out. MAMA, IS THAT CHOCOLATE?? I WANT SOME TOOOOOOOOO.

And so I hide.

And then I say to heck with trying (again) to get baby to nap or doing dishes or laundry or forcing little man to do more school (we are still working our way into a full schedule, to put it diplomatically).

And meanwhile, I have swirling in my head, this week, last week, possibilities of working more, internationally, consulting, and what it would mean to this routine of ours.

And so, I ignore it all, swirling and whirling, and I come, and sit, and write, to you.


Its hard to get back into this routine. Isn't it? The sun still shining, as if it were summer, the garden still serving up its goodness (and requiring my attention).

And in the midst of trying to get into this new routine, I am finding myself on autopilot. You know those moments right? Coffee (me), Cheerios (them), school, play outside, lunch, dishes, laundry, dinner, bathtime, more dishes, more laundry, bedtime.

Collapse with wine in hand.

And then you do it again.

And again.

And again.

And my brain is all the swirls and whirls of these other things, the preoccupying things. We've all been there. Whether its a friendship on the rocks, or troubles at work, or a bill to pay, or a writing project that is stuck, or thinking of changing up your little world with TAKING MORE WORK ON (I am crazy, truly) we all do this. Those autopilot days.

I need to bring my mind back, refocus, compartmentalize my thinking a bit more. Here is now. Now is good. Be in the now.

And in the now. What does your now look like?

I look around at my now.

There are toys strewn across the floor. The sink is stacked with dishes. Tomato seeds ands juice covering the cutting board. The table contains exactly three cups peppermint tea, two princess dolls, duct tape (little man was mysteriously taping something a moment ago, always nervewracking) a half eaten banana, playmobile knights and a sippy cup. There is dirt and sand covering the stair, hall, and front entrance, tracked in from the rain we have had the past two days.

But those are the negative things. Funny how one's mind does that.

There is also sun shining outside. I can see the wind dancing in the trees at the edge of our field, blowing the pines back and forth. The garden is green and good, with sunflowers over 10 feet tall and tomatoes still coming as well as potatoes to dig soon, beets nearly ready, huge carrots and all kinds of other goodness. Out back the chickens are squawking about something.

Inside tomatoes are whirring in the dehydrator. Little man is pacing the house with his pretend bow strapped to his back, quiver at his side, awaiting some grand adventure. Little miss, who has been sick, curled herself up on my bed, seeking out quiet, and fell asleep. Baby is now crying to play with my twenty year old Russian stacking doll up on the shelf. She pushed up her little red rocker, little tushie hanging out of her dress (still working on that potty thing) and stretches her plump little arm up to the top shelf. "Can we do it mama? Your big dolly?" (Yes, she is speaking in the royal "we" these days.)

Paintings of three little artists hang on the wall. A collection of oil lamps are on the shelves in front of me. A newly strung guitar by my side. A stack of books on the shelf with titles like "Build your own log cabin" and "How to be a famous writer before you die" (Hilarious right??) Next to these books is a tiny greenhouse (love you Ikea!) with my orchid and my ginger plant that just finally decided to sprout (YAY.)

And I look around, in this, my now, and I see love and beauty, and such goodness that I cant really even take it. And baby climbs up on my lap, and says "Mama, my milky?"

And really, its all just beautiful.

the sky at sunset the other day. yep, still managing to get up early! maybe it will last...until October? November? ha!

recreating a Jackson Pollock painting

I love LOVE finding him reading around the house. he is now on his top bunkbed, heels kicked up,
reading Calvin and Hobbes. LOVE IT.


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