Real Today

Today had moments that were hard. I don't mean emotionally hard, which is what I usually write about. I'm going to step outside of the fairy land of the beauty and love of my amazing life with my four amazing living children (an amazing concept, but yes, there are four alive right now) and address the reality of sometimes.

Sometimes, days stretch on for weeks. The children don't really want to play with each other, or play by themselves, and each child wants an adult all to him/herself. Sometimes, each child cries or complains or whines until said adult attends to the want of the day. Sometimes, I wish we didn't have all these wonderful science kits and fancy art activities so that my children could each just sneak off into a corner and entertain themselves while I lie on the couch and read my book. Sometimes, I fantasize about hiring a mother's helper to follow around the most adorable 17 month old baby on the planet, so that I can have an hour off from the exhausting existence of keeping tabs on her every step and every word. If you don't respond to everything Fiona says, she keeps repeating herself, louder and louder each time. Sometimes, the din in the house, with the two older kids trying to tell competing stories, and Fiona vying for her own spot at the mike, is deafening.

I am low on energy right now, I know this, and this is why today this was my experience. I don't have the foresight or planning skills to think through how I can best integrate the needs of these three sweet, amazing children into a fun afternoon for everyone. I am ready for a rest, a real rest, but at the same time I want this rest to include my sweet babies because I love them so desperately.

It's a catch-22 I find myself in often, this need and desire and desperation for some space and time and breathing room, and my simultaneous hunger for having my children around me, on me, with me all the time. Right now I dream of us all lying quietly in a big bed, watching some old VHS tape from the 1980's, maybe eating cinnamon toast and drinking milky English Breakfast tea with sugar. I dream of lying on a chaise in the backyard while the two older children scamper around in the woods, lost in a fairy-fantasy game, and Fiona digs quietly in the sandbox, immersed in her bucket and shovel and the white sand pouring through her tiny fingers.

Mostly, I dream of my body in the prone position, where I'm not bending over, the bile rising in my throat as my ever-growing baby presses onto my stomach.

I'm living the dream, the dream of real life, right now. I love it, I do, even though I am writing about its challenges. The truth, the end story of the Catch-22, is that if somebody offered me 2 nights at the spa in the Berkshires, all expenses paid, and a car to drive me there in the morning, I would politely decline. I don't want to escape my life, I just need to be true to what it is sometimes.

That being said, if somebody offered to cook all the meals, keep the house picked up, fold and put away the laundry, and watch the kids while I ran to town for an hour for a massage, I would gladly accept.

Tomorrow, the sun is supposed to shine again. It should be warmer, and I may get some moments by the sandbox, even though I don't have a chaise to lie on. Right now the little baby in my belly is stretching and kicking and so vital, and I am so excited for its arrival. I am due in a few days over 5 weeks. This is so amazing.