It’s 10:45 on Sunday morning. THE Sunday morning…the last Sunday morning before the world shifts and school starts and daycare begins and we make new rhythms and routines. Milo is in his room fighting his morning nap, but Ben has instructed me to sit and be still. I’m wrapped up in the apple quilt, drinking coffee, listening to the Weakerthans station on Pandora. Penguin came and cuddled me. It almost feels like a fallish Sunday morning from my old life. Take away any slight hangover and substitute in G I Joes and squished blueberries on the carpet.
Last night I went out after dark (for the first time since my grad class finished in June, literally) and sat on the patio outside a bar to say goodbye to a friend who is about to move overseas. I felt a little strange and awkward at first, sipping cranberry juice and catching up on inside jokes, but friends kept pouring in and I found myself really enjoying the conversation. Some of my friends are celebrating anniversaries, buying houses, having babies, and I love chatting about their new milestones. When I was buying a house and having a baby, I never understood how other people could get excited about my shit. Now I get it. Other people visiting the same events you’ve visited lets you remember your first house/closing date/first week home with a tiny person who belongs to you, and you’re so sympathetic to their reeling minds and so happy for all the goodness that’s happening. On the other hand, a section of my friends who aren’t quite giving up on the fun life yet are playing music at open mics, moving to new countries, creating awesome Halloween costumes, going on cool vacations, and generally living a life that I love to listen to and vicariously enjoy. I found myself rolling home at midnight, impressed with my hipness. It was a great evening.
This morning feels like the Four Corners monument, where you can put a part of your body into Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah, all at the same time. It’s the intersection of my old, out-on-Saturday-night self with my new bottles-and-diapers self. It’s the end of being a stay- at-home-mama pushed right up against a new life of a mighty working woman; daycare pick ups, work deadlines, arranging childcare for evening school events. It’s going to get hot later today, but right now there is a breeze and my blanket is not too warm quite yet. I know why I love change so much. Because I love this feeling.
It might only be a week before I’m getting frustrated with my new need for balance, and I’ll be missing the laziness I grant myself during all of Milo’s naps. I know (and people are weirdly fond of telling me) that things are about to get hard, and then harder. But I’m so grateful that I have a bubbling of excitement for all the fresh and all the new. I’m so happy to see Milo gain a group of new playmates. I’m so inspired to work with great people who love kids and want to make this year effective and fun for everyone. I’m so in love with my little family and the adventures we’ve already been on, plus all the EVENTS we have on the horizon. Mostly, I’m so proud to be a working mama, and show Milo that I can bring in money for my family, do work that inspires me and supports our community, and come home for walks to the park and dinners together.
I do think that I’m making a big deal of this little Sunday morning because I do realize that life is about to RAMP UP and things are going to hit a fever pitch. I won’t be able to realize it until I’m in it, but I have a vague idea that it’s going to get hard. But I’m assuming that it’s hard because it’s worth it. And I can do hard things.