Hungry hands

Today was a perfect example of the pendulous nature of parenthood.  The day went from good to bad to too much and then, miraculously, landed at an even-tempered peaceful.  This morning, I noticed that my sweet husband had tidied up the kitchen and dishes.  Evelyn had already used the potty (I'll get to this) and was dressed.  It was a very nice way to wake up.  Unfortunately, the morning became a bit chaotic as we realized that Chris was (again) getting out the door later than we had intended.  I completely missed my physical therapy appointment because we didn't have child care.  Essentially, this meant that I felt awful for missing the appointment and my neck and shoulders were in pretty bad shape.  As for the too much part of the day?  Well, both children have been glued to me since Monday afternoon.  The lack of personal space-- or even ten minutes to breath, to drink water, to think-- bubbled over by this afternoon.  I wasn't sure how much more I could handle without a break.

Henry is getting over a cold and he's not quite himself.  He's been crying whenever I set him down or step away.  He just needs extra closeness right now, so I wore him in the Ergo carrier for a good part of the day-- though he did not care for my chopping an onion to make dinner tonight.  I set him down for that; he didn't appreciate being on the floor either.  Evelyn is on day three of being diaper-free.  She's doing quite well, but she does occasionally become so engrossed in a project (or so cranky and over-tired, as was the case yesterday), that she forgets about going to the potty.  My job as her mother is to be supportive and provide guidance in developmentally appropriate ways-- this means that when Evelyn is ready to ditch the diapers, I am ready with her.  I just had no idea how hard it would be to be completely in tune with both children and somehow be prepared to drop whatever it is I was doing (sorry, Henry) when Evelyn needed help in the bathroom.

I think we're all just making it through the day, parents.  Sometimes, we move purposefully and with ease.  Sometimes we reach a point where the only option seems to be surrendering to the chaos, the beautiful chaos of life.  As I buckled the kids into the car this afternoon, I uttered a small prayer.  I needed a little mercy, or maybe pity.  I needed some breathing room.  After stopping for a latte and a short drive by the horse pastures, both kids were asleep.  Henry didn't stay asleep, but Evelyn slept for two whole hours.  When she woke up, Henry took a little nap.  I could handle one child at a time, especially one happy and well-rested child.  Evelyn and I made dinner together.

This evening, the day got much better.  It felt good to make a tasty meal for my family.  Evelyn did some art projects-- she is particularly interested in gluing right now.  I took care of two loads of laundry.  Henry and I played with the wooden activity cube, which- by the way- demonstrated how clever he is.  He realized that he could follow the green spiral wire all the way around the top of the cube and he motioned that he wanted to push the wooden beads along the spiral.  I helped him "walk" around to accomplish this task and he looked pleased. 

We finished the day at church.  Today is the feast of the Immaculate Conception; we don't ordinarily attend Mass on weekdays.  As it turned out, spending an hour at church was exactly what I needed.  Whether or not you are religious, there is something irreplaceable to be gained when standing in a room filled with people, each one reaching out to grasp the hand of a stranger.  I offered my hands, my desire and my need to step outside of myself and exist in a larger context-- one not defined by post-partum depression or stress or exhaustion.  And so, I found myself praying again, with Henry asleep on my chest and Evelyn bouncing around Chris' legs.  This time, though, it was a prayer of thanks.