I had my coffee. I had a quiet morning, with both babies still asleep. The hum of the monitor keeping me company. A dark, overcast day. The dim under-cabinet lights on. And the shine of my laptop at the table. I was ready, inspired to write, and rearin' to go. I've been dying to write. Actually write. Not just post some pretty photos. About anything and everything. It is absolutely the way I deal with stress and anxiety and it soothes me. (Sidenote: I am a teeth clencher. When I'm stressed I feel it because I am clenching my teeth so hard I almost don't notice until I feel the pain. It's ridiculous. Whyyy.)
I even got up early today. I rarely do that these days. But I needed to. I needed to get up early and write whatever the heck came to my fingertips, alone, in peace, after kissing my husband and sending him off to work. One itty baby is in the middle of my queen sized bed asleep, the other in her teeny, tiny little toddler bed.
It felt like the perfect scenario to be inspired and write. So? I wrote...and wrote...and then it happened. In only 10 minutes, when I thought I'd definitely get at least an hour, heck, 45 minutes of alone time this morning, the little morning cries/whines came from the monitor.
My insides screamed "nooooooo, not just yet! but you went to bed so late last niiiiighttttt". But the inevitable was true. It was real morning time now. The ball was up and rolling, ready to go down the hill at full speed--because that's the kind of day we have. And I know that once Em is up, that's the official START to the day, if you know what I mean. I have to be on now. Like, really on. No more quiet moments for me. We've got breakfast, then preschool drop-off, then errands, then pick-up, then lunch, then nap, then I have to leave for Girls on the Run (which I'm volunteering for now), and then our weekly family dinner..and..and. You get it.
I left my laptop, with two measly paragraphs written, and on my walk up to her room I was praying it was a good morning. Sometimes she wakes up on the wrong side of the bed and it's all tears and woe-is-me. Some days? It's pure joy. Bliss. Exactly how I'd imagine a happy, peppy, little toddler wake-up to be. I popped the door open, peeked my head in, and got a HUGE smile from her. It was code for: I'm in a good mood mom, no need to proceed with caution.
I sat on her bed, she hugged me. Then she whispered, "Lucy's sleeping mom, gotta be cry-it! (quiet), shhhh", and I told her that's right. Sister's asleep, so let's be quiet, and I smiled because, I wonder where she's heard that before? ;) I changed her. Got a few unprompted hugs and kisses, she insisted on bringing her dora-blanket down (as usual these days), and we trudged down to the kitchen together. I quickly got her milk, a waffle with peanut butter, and grapes together for her breakfast.
I sat back down.
And then? I lost it. I lost everything about that post. Not physically. But mentally. I just couldn't keep writing it. Nothing felt inspired about it anymore. Suddenly I was right smack in the middle of mom mode and it left. Flew the coop. I re-read it, and read it again, and thought What was I thinking? So I saved it and began another post.
The first sentence was awful. So I scratched that.
And then here we are now. This hodge-podgeness, a cup of coffee later, two awake little girls, and a hot-mess mom with a pulled muscle in her back donning her pink robe.
And that's where I go, true life, man. True life.
I guess there's always naptime.