Saturday, August 25, 2012

Cookies in Bed

Our first full week is officially in the books. Last week was a big, sloppy blur of boxes and cramming a whole lot of stuff into not a lot of room. We met teachers and friends and practiced some new routines. Life is so good when there are flowers on the table and not a single smudge in the sink. Everything is shiny and new and different. It's busy and exhilerating...

...and then, one afternoon, it's too bright. Too busy. Something.

I'm grumbly and blue without warning, and not just because I had my first-ever bad Mexican food experience. That's when the real reality sets in - the one that follows us always, the one we unpack with each new move. It's the reminder that I'm still me, they're still them, he's still him. We're all still us, and we still have bad days. We have things to sort through. We're banged up about the shins. We're still prone to the ills of that blasted PMS. (Well, some of us are. Like me, for instance.)

As my friend Tiny reminds me, "Wherever you go, there you are."

It's never a surprise, not really; but it's strange to sit in a spanking new place and feel that nasty dude slink over me like a bad shirt. I want to shake him off, leave him behind, lose him for good.

That's never going to happen. I'm learning to see the beauty in a little angst. It's just one of the things that connects me to you, you to me. Life wasn't meant to be simple. And some of the greatest blessings of my life have closed in on some of the deepest hurts, only to unfurl again into a different sort of lovely, a whole new type of grace.

So maybe I pout a little.  Maybe I do. Not too long, just long enough. I whine to Cory and grump around for a solid three-quarters of an hour. I wrestle with feeling alone and wanting more alone time. I need a new hobby. I need to be settled. I need a routine. I need to be a better friend, wife, mom. I need a sitter. I need more time to do work stuff - wait, I don't actually have a job... I need time away. I need more family time. I don't know what the heck I need.

Turns out, I need to tuck the kids in and go straight to bed. I need to lay on top of the covers and read a mindless magazine for an hour. I need to slice up some fruit and watch a show with my man. I need Orange Milanos. I need to pray about some things and fall asleep before eleven o'clock.

I need to take care of myself, and let myself be taken care of. I need to cut me some slack and not worry when every single day isn't a barn burner.

Morning comes, the kids wake up chattery and full of the kind of hope that I want for myself, so I take it. I hold it with both hands and all my heart, relieved as ever to find that it followed me here, too.

What's your remedy for one of those days? I'm taking notes...