The last time I spent three mornings in a row solo in my house happened…well, I don’t think it’s ever happened since we moved into Little Pink in 2014.
It. Is. So. Weird.
Once the mania of making breakfasts and lunches, encouraging kids to get dressed and helping them with tricky socks and shoes, and walking Henry to his bus stop is over, and Keith takes Elliot to preschool, then it’s just me.
What am I supposed to be doing?
It’s just so quiet.
“In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet
For just a moment
A yellow sky” ~Hamilton
I feel like I’m waiting in the calm of the storm. Having never gone through the eye of a hurricane (with hope that I never will), I can only imagine what that’s like. The anticipation. It feels restless. It feels scary. It feels exhausting. It feels exhilarating. It feels good. It feels free.
I don’t start classes until the 26th so I don’t really have anything I need to be doing so I’m trying to enjoy the stillness. I’ve never been one to take a pause and just breathe. So I’m working on it.
I went to Body Flow on Wednesday and stayed for the whole meditation. I’m figuring out my triggers and how to practice being calm when my anxious fight or flight response rears its ugliness. I breathe.
And I fail. And that’s okay. There’s grace for that.
And I try again.
Something Henry has been saying with increasing frequency lately has started: “When I’m a grown up and I’m a daddy….” He follows that up with some adorable way he’s going to act as an adult. Tonight he declared that “When I’m a grown up and I’m a daddy I’m going to cut the grass using the stick cutter like daddy uses.” He means the weed whacker, and thought that cutting the grass with a lawnmower (like I was doing tonight) was barbaric and less efficient somehow. Adorable, right?
But the words he ALWAYS includes when making these statements nearly make my cry with happiness each time he says them, “When I’m a grown up and I’m a daddy, and I’m staying at home with the kids and my wife is a pastor….”
I can’t take it sometimes and give him a hug so fierce he can’t take it (he’s not my cuddly little).
My joyful and proud mama moment is twofold.
First, he sees Keith’s job as important, but not something he’s into (thank goodness; clergy positions, even when they’re in wonderful congregations, are tough). Plus, he knows that women make excellent pastors and he’s fine if his wife is one.
Moreover, he sees what I do as a stay-at-home-mom all day, every day, and wants to have that life. So often I feel like I’m doing this whole mama thing wrong, especially when I yell, feel frustrated, and am bored with playing with toys. But he overlooks that, and sees my all-encompassing love for him and his brother, and wants that for himself when he’s a daddy. I hope he feels that kind of love someday.