Last night as my feet crunched down on the snow covered sidewalk, the cold air no longer affecting me because I’d reached that point in running where I felt almost invincible, like I could do this all night, I realized Jhumpa Lahiri was right in her short story A choice of accommodations when she said that after the second child the marriage disappears.
Each of you is constantly trying to find time for yourself in the name of self-preservation. Five minutes without the crying. Thirty minutes to zone out to TV. A few stolen moments to read a page or two, maybe write a quick post. Life becomes a series of relays – I’ll chop the vegetables and make the rice, and while you put the stir-fry together I’ll run errands. You start bath time and I’ll do the reading.
And in the midst of it I see that resistance is my enemy.
Instead I practice surrender. I stop asking why. Why on the last day of Naveen’s antibiotics does Deaglan suddenly have a fever? Why on the rare occasion the baby is sleeping through the night does my mind race, leaving me to toss and turn all night long?
I pick two things to get done instead of bemoaning that I never have time to do anything. I celebrate the seemingly inconsequential like finding time to get my eyebrows shaped, organizing a shelf in a cupboard I’d been meaning to get to.
I find peace in laundry, sanity with the vacuum cleaner. I remind myself that this is what there is. That the prayer isn’t please God transport me to an easier time and place, it’s oh hey, I see why this is right and good.
And when the day is long, blind to joy, I stay close to the couch and go easy on myself.
My sister's bird found his way to my shoulder. It was not unlike having a small child constantly attached to you - lovely and irritating at the same time. Oh who am I kidding - it was kind of creepy.
Naveen finally let someone cut the back of his mane. He was sporting a mullet for the last few months. I'm just loving this neck, those ears.
I'm joining my friends Rach and Sara today for Life Lessons.