maybe your eyes see the photographs, but you can't find the time to pick up your camera.
maybe you've been writing a blog post for 2 weeks.
maybe you've recently had to double check:
- your mom's phone number
- your OWN phone number
-what month it is
-whether or not you were wearing shorts...after walking to the end of the block
-whether or not you were still living in Oxford, upon hearing church bells chime
maybe a peacock wanders into your neighborhood, settles in a pine tree next to your bedroom window and now screams its
strangled, hideous "HELLO" at 5am every godforsaken morning.
"Wait, what? You don't want to say hi at 5am? My bad."
maybe your daughter develops highly contagious fever blisters and you find yourself saying "wash your hands" or "don't touch that" so much that you are certain one or both of you are going to come out of the experience as
Howard Hughes.
"Room for one more Howie? I've got my Lysol and white gloves all packed."
maybe three days after her fever blisters resolve, your daughter catches a cold and you add "blow your nose" or "don't wipe your nose on that" to your earlier hand washing reminders.
maybe as you try (and fail) to keep the sick kid and well kid apart, your husband uses the phrase "viral shedding" and you get so squirrely with anxiety that you are now pretty sure that at least
you have become Howard Hughes.
"
Oh, Mom. Who cares about those yucky illness causing biofilms all over us. Let us snuggle."
maybe your husband, away at
TEDMED when the plague hits your kids, calls to share tales from his trip - his meetings with the high flyers in healthcare, the mind blowing talks he heard and the revolutionary projects he was asked to take part in - and the best you have to offer in return are stories of the blowout poop that filled an entire leg of the baby's sleep suit or the moment your daughter stuck a straw down her throat or how you thawed the giant container of chicken stock to freeze it into more manageable cubes with an ice tray.
"Richard, can I stay with you for a while? My place has become a nuthouse!"
maybe your daughter calls out for you in the middle of the night, in a pitiful voice thick with illness and tears, just as your son begins crying to nurse. maybe you leave your daughter, who sobs, "i just want you, mommy!" and go to your son, thankful that her grandmother is in bed with her but hating yourself just the same.
maybe there are days when your daughter pushes your buttons, shouts at you or ignores you altogether and you find yourself counting the days until she starts preschool like a prisoner scratching his term into a cell wall.
maybe, by 8 o'clock, if you are lucky enough that both kids are sleeping, all you want to do is eat a handful of graham cracker sticks and go to bed, even if that upsets your husband.
maybe you've started to wonder if you will ever make everyone happy at the same time.
maybe there's more. Like rushing the 8 week old to the ER (false alarm), your preschooler turning into the Exorcist at the egg hunt it took all day to arrange, the fresh set of stitches in your husband's face, the unexpected 5 thousand dollar medical bill from your son's birth, all three sets of parents coming to visit during the month when life seems to be coming completely unhinged...
"
I came here to help out but....what the heck have I signed myself up for?"
maybe you are starting to wonder if the universe is just a big ole bully, hell bent on stuffing you headfirst into the karmic toilet.
"
What's that? You woke up feeling hopeful? Time for another swirlie, chump."
image credit
But, perhaps that's not all.
perhaps you have discovered that your son loves when you sing
Annie's Song and something about that makes you really, really happy.
"
I surrender to John Denver."
perhaps you packed away the last of the maternity clothes and slipped on your favorite pair of jean shorts from Anthropologie.
perhaps you made your husband laugh so hard that he choked on his grapefruit juice, spraying it all over the kitchen. And that made you laugh. Which made your daughter laugh. And the baby in your arms smiled.
perhaps you and your daughter spent a precious half hour singing songs, coloring and chatting about everything and nothing. perhaps she told you she loved you and that this was they best day ever.
And it was.
perhaps you have made the effort during this crazy time to connect with friends - even if just by email or texts during late night nursing sessions - to share a laugh, hear their troubles or just say hi...and it has been so worth it.
perhaps your son, who has smiled every single day since he was born, has begun to laugh and shriek with happiness when you talk or sing to him and it never fails to make your heart soar.
"You people are crazy - how can I not laugh?"
perhaps your mom bought scented laundry detergent for you by mistake and, when you slipped into your freshly washed sheets that night, you remembered that you actually love scented laundry detergent.
perhaps you've had a few moments of being a mother, not just a caretaker, to both of your children at the same time.
"See Rhys, this is what I was talking about. Work, work, work. Not a moment's rest."
Perhaps your daughter brings you a banana when she gets herself one or picks you flowers or comes to snuggle in bed one morning and you realize that you two just might get through this.
You might be ok after all.
perhaps a friend gives you a cool iPhone app, so you can still enjoy taking photos. perhaps another records a favorite band's performance for you. perhaps another sends you text messages that crack you up on really crummy days. perhaps another drops off your favorite flowers.
perhaps your son loves being outside or going for walks and you remember that you do too.
"Let's get this nap wagon rolling lady!"
perhaps, you don't have as much time for crafts, activity books and outings but that doesn't mean your daughter has stopped learning from you.
perhaps you are actually teaching the most important lessons she will ever learn.
"I hear Mom say she has too much milk but I'm just not sure I have enough, Lambie."
perhaps you have decided not to kill the peacock.
perhaps you've decided to keep finding the gifts from the universe.
to smile and get on with it, in spite of and because of it all.
maybe this isn't just me.
perhaps this is you too.
and, if so, good luck out there.