This isn’t some Sad Girl blog…
Okay, maybe a little.
But, like, some things are just sad right now. When I think about things overall, like-
My green grapes being shitty because I couldn’t taste them prior to buying (I am turning into my mother), or how I’m having a coffee D I L E M M A because I use a French press, but sometimes I need more, and also grinding beans at 5 am is loud and I worry that I’ll wake my “People Usually Make Noise Between 10 And 10” neighbor so I use ground and I’m not supposed to use ground and it tastes weird and clogs my filter but I don’t want to get a coffee pot because it’s more money and takes up more (limited) space and THE SKY IS FALLING.
Okay, but seriously. I’m not a Sad Girl by nature. I’m not even all that sad these days in general. My moments of grief are the kinds that rush in through my eye sockets and fill my bones will gallons of tears, but they’re mere moments and don’t stick around very long.
Like when I suddenly realized that I’ll miss approximately 40% of my baby’s lives and found myself bent over, hiding from my four year old, as she recounted her day at school. Or the first quiet afternoon when they go to their dad’s and I wonder if Maddox knows I’m still here or if he thinks I’ve left him forever. Or when I think about how drastically different my life looks right now than I originally imagined or planned for. It’s the moments when I think Scarlett is being so mature about something and I see myself at her age and I hate it because I feel like this aged her as much as it did me. Or when I’m putting away clothes and I wonder if someone will hold his hands like I do long enough so that he falls asleep. Or when I hurt my own feelings by listening to songs I know damn well will just punch me in the gut. But then I light a candle and change the song. Or I water my plants by The Windows, staying there for a moment, watching the city. Or I make my bed with the white sheets and turn down the corner like my mom taught me to do.
The bright spots trickle in when my babies come home and my work is (briefly) complete, and I had a chance to catch my breath. There’s lightness in picking up toys after they’ve gone to sleep, and folding the throw blanket that belongs on our couch. And there’s a whole lot of hope that exists within these four walls that fills my cup when my shitty, coffee-ground-laden brew ISN’T CUTTING IT I SAID.
It’s just weird. And wild. And astonishingly difficult sometimes. But it’s also really rewarding more times than not, and I find myself having an easier time, an even more fun time, if I may, doing The Thing With My Feet, one foot in front…
I guess what I’m trying to say is, it’s going to be okay. I already AM okay. In a lot of ways, I’m better than okay, and I reckon at some point most things will be better-than-just-okay for us. At the moment, both of my babies are asleep in their respective beds. I’ll need to get up and go downstairs to start the dishwasher, and pick up the toys. I’ll put the pot of water on the stove in preparation for Should I Use The Whole Beans And Grind Them (knowing fully well I won’t, so I’ll get down the bag of ground and set it on the counter.) I’ll check the locks and make sure all the candles are blown out. And I’ll fold the throw blanket, the one that belongs on our couch.