Sunday, September 30, 2012


Recently my guy and I talked about how there's seemingly little time to do...anything... these days that doesn't feel like chores.  At the end of the work days, one or both of us is rushing to leave work and make sure we are either back home or picking up our boy.  From that time on, we are racing the clock: there's one last feeding; there's bath time; there's getting on tiny little pjs and bundling up; there's a good night story (maybe); and soothing the littlest member of the household until he's so calm he falls asleep, practically with a thud.

If we've done it right, there are minimal tears on everyone's part and we've spent not very many minutes rocking the increasingly heavy boy in our arms.  I love these minutes with him in my arms, but if you put him down to abruptly or if he hasn't sufficiently calmed down first, he'll start crying as soon as he feels the mattress under his head and then -up! Up again to start the soothing all over again. If done right the first time, you only have to do it once.

Then, there's supplies from the day to put away or clean, food to make or heat up and dish out and eat, there's mail to look through and tomorrow's logistics to map out.  And by the time that's all done with, there's maybe, maybe, an hour or two left to relax and enjoy each other's company.  And that feels like so little after all that other time spent just keeping things going.

After discussing all that I made a concerted effort to plan, time and make a good breakfast - granola buttermilk pancakes (they sound good, right? I know! they really were!) that my guy and I could share while our little one was napping.  And yet, when you think you can count on your routine, you get shown how foolish you are to make such an easy assumption.

The boy has his first full blown cold. He's deep in congestion and runny snotty nostrils and the tiniest little cough that kind of breaks the edges of my heart.  When he was all worn out and ready for more sleeping, he needed extra soothing and my guy found he wasn't going to be able to put him down to sleep. Since we want him to rest and heal as quickly as possible, my guy held our sleeping boy in his lap for the entire time I ate my pancakes.

And my first reaction was to be upset: hey, I'm doing what I can here to add room for us. Why didn't you just put the boy down to nap in his crib? He'd be fine. I went to all this trouble to do something just for us, and here I am, and here are the pancakes. Where's the togetherness? And after I had a bit of a pout to myself I realized how lucky my boy and I are to have such a dedicated guy to help us do and be our best. So what if this one minor effort I made on our behalf didn't go as intended? So what if I eat breakfast alone another time. Really, what's the big deal?

This is a period where we get done the things that need doing in the best way possible, even if our own  individual desires aren't fulfilled. We agreed to dedicate ourselves to our greatest desire and make sure he is cared for and supported while he's figuring out this world of his.  So I'll keep making room in my mind and my heart for simple small pleasures that we can share; and if it doesn't work out, I won't sweat it too much. I'll be working on forgiveness: of people and situations and the c'est la part of vie. And, when left to my own devices, I might be eating some of my guy's share of the pancakes along the way.

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