The sun is coming through the windows this morning. Our house gets a ton of natural light during the day - so much that I don't turn the lights on for a good six to seven hours. The only problem with a lot of natural sunlight is its ability to showcase how badly you need to dust and vacuum every surface in the room. That's on my list of things to do today.
Scout is sleeping. I was up with her before that morning sunlight. We snuggled in the dark, sunk deep into the couch cushions, her noisily eating while I looked down at her wide-awake eyes. They sparkled, and I could see from the dim lamp lit in the living room corner that the corners were crinkled and she smiled and cooed and I remembered why I love this stage of motherhood so much. They're only small for such a short time and they change so much every day. It's been two months since I gave birth to my girl. It feels like two days, but at the same time, it's hard to remember life before her.
I like to imagine that one day, it'll be easy to get up before my kids do, to pour my coffee and read & pray a bit before I hear the first baby cry. But right now, it's a true miracle if I get a shower before 3pm, let alone get myself out of bed before the sun comes up. Most days I wear yoga pants, but every now and then, I manage to squeeze into my cute jeans and put in a pair of earrings. I always wear my slippers, though.
My detox is going well. It's been nice to have a healthy relationship with my iPhone again (I do realize how ridiculous this sounds, trust me). I feel a bit more free, like I have more space to breathe. The anxiety of missing out has passed and now I couldn't give even the smallest of craps. I've been reading again - actual books with pages, not status updates or sound bites in 140 characters - and I can feel myself reset. I've always believed that good writers are good readers and the more I'm reading, the more I'm writing. I can feel myself come alive again, my creativity is slowly making it's way back to me. It's pretty remarkable how it was kept at bay while I chained myself to social media through my phone. I still log in to Facebook and Twitter from my laptop from time to time, but the time I have in front of the computer is intentional, carved-out and infrequent. I love it.
Things have begun to shift in me, and I think the people around me are noticing. I'm not holding on as tightly to control, I'm okay with receiving help and my guilt issues aren't as strong as they used to be. I have a couple of friends coming over today to hang out with my babies to I can have some time to myself. I plan to sit and read at a coffee shop, open up my laptop after I've indulged myself in both a good story and latte (don't worry, I'll donate double), and write and write and write until it's time to go home and make dinner. I don't feel the least bit bad about it, either. I considered making an appointment to get my nails done, but I should probably wait until payday to do that.
Life is surprising me. Leading up to Scout's birth, I was told by so many mamas to be prepared - "the transition from one to two kids is so hard. Everything is more difficult." To be honest, I haven't found it all that difficult. Sometimes the timing is a bit tricky, especially when Erik travels (Scout always seems to want to eat right when Rowan needs to go to bed), and Lord knows that leaving the house is much more of a production than it used to be.
But, the anxiety you feel with the first child's birth is gone. You've done this before, so you know what to expect. The sleepless nights and constant feeding isn't a surprise anymore, so you go into it with lower, more reasonable expectations. You look at your older child and every time you see them, you're reminded that the time goes by too fast, so you don't mind being trapped under a feeding baby who refuses to be put down. You know that need & desire won't be there much longer - before you know it, she'll be getting her own snacks out of the pantry and playing quietly on her own, she won't need you like she used to when she was so small - so you snuggle a bit longer, you kiss her baby-soft skin one more time, you watch as her infant hands curl around your index finger.
You refuse to miss a single moment this time around. The laundry can wait just a little bit longer.
But not too much longer, I'm almost out of clean underwear.
So, I guess it's time to do laundry.