It's an unseasonably cold day here, a day for stretchy pants and hot tea. I feel bittersweet, melancholy and lazy. Will has a snotty nose and he's extra clingy. I'm listening to The Lion's Roar by First Aid Kit and it's perfectly matching my mood.
Now he's napping and it's hard to decide what to do. Writing this blog post means I'm not laying down, reading, napping myself.
I'm still trying to figure it out, what it means, this season of Stay At Home Momness. Most of my day is taken up with baby wrangling, wrestling, and snuggling, and mundane maintenance. The other part of it with resting, relaxing, trying to get my energy back before the next round.
In theory... I want to be doing so much more. Writing more blog posts, a novel maybe, make new friends and have IRL community, landscape my yard, grow a vegetable garden (someday), drink green smoothies, touch up paint the house, make more photo albums, finally have a system for managing my digital photos (ugh). And more, and more that I know is overambitious and won't be happening anytime soon, if at all.
And that's okay. I think. It's part of this season of life. This season is about slowness. About sitting in the floor and playing peekaboo. About just managing to get dinner together and always having a load of laundry running and a sink full of dirty dishes. About watching my share of silly tv and reading silly novels and having a Kindle full of parenting books. About wanting to find someone, to talk to, about the mundane that passes by, and often being alone.
That's this season. I'm still settling into it. I love so many parts of it, I just find myself wanting to do more, wanting to be in two places at once. And that just can't happen. I'm trying to figure out how to accept being in one place at once and letting this slowness be okay.