It’s been hard to find the right words to describe this season of our lives and all the changes that we’ve experienced. It is tempting to sum it up into one word- busy- and leave it at that. But really it feels much more complex. There is a certain amount of guilt- I am away from home and the boys much more than I’d like to be. Just the other day my son cried as I left for work, “You are too busy for me, mama.” My heart shattered. There is a certain amount of loneliness- I dearly miss our sitter, whose presence was a bright spot in my week. There is a certain amount of excitement- weddings and birthday parties to attend- along with the inevitable letdown that comes afterward. There is a large amount of mourning: the loss of free time, time to cook, knit, sew, create.
It’s funny, when my boys were babies I spent most of my days trying to pass the time. There were hours spent pushing the stroller aimlessly around town, attending story hour at the library and wiling away the afternoon at the park. There were long afternoons when the boys were napping and I was stuck at home in a quiet house. Life felt busy, but the busyness was all due to motherhood, and really, our time was our own to spend how we wanted. I loved it, but at the same time struggled against the monotony. Now when you add in school and working outside of the home, there is this feeling that our days are not our own anymore. Free time is precious and dwindling. I can only imagine how it will feel once the boys are involved in sports and after-school activities. There is this part of me that wants desperately to go back to those slow days of new motherhood. I wish someone had told me how fast it goes. And I wish that I would have listened.
I feel a bit lost right now, if I’m to be honest. I speed through the week- working Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday- rushing between school drop-off and work, then back home to throw together a lame excuse for dinner. I drop into bed exhausted, with no will to craft or read. Without my creative pursuits I am adrift, an anchor-less boat bobbing in a rough sea. This space may be quiet for a bit as I figure out my way, but I hope to see you here on the other side. I’m not sure what blogging will look like moving forward. Maybe once a week, maybe once a month. I hope when the dust settles, you’ll be here. I do so cherish this space, and the conversations that we have. Life is beautiful, and hard, and then beautiful all over again.