Tomorrow

Grocery shopping. I wonder what people think when they look at me with three kids. Does my face show how much I'm struggling to keep it together, hoping Violet doesn't break down, Will doesn't run away, and wishing Emily would quit asking what we're doing after grocery shopping? Probably.

I've asked, how people do it, and I get it, I do. You just do it. I mean, it's life, right?

I've been feeling sort of disconnected lately, not tuned into the kids, not noticing things I should. The worst part? I notice me not noticing.

I sit here after the kids are in bed, and I think, Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll be more present. But it's so hard. I'm not as zen as I would like to be. Will dumps out toys all over the living room (and I mean all over the living room, a sea of Legos, blocks, and books), and the ugly part of me is just anxious until they are cleaned up (oh and not just cleaned up, but sorted properly). I don't smile as much as I should, or let things roll off of my back. I feel like a Jack-in-the-Box, tightly wound and ready to spring.

Is this where I add a little anecdote about the kids, how wonderful they are and how I marvel at their beauty and gentleness, their sweet little fingers and toes, and how Will is talking about things more and becoming more curious and asking questions? I feel like it is...

And well, Violet is curled up in my arms as I type this, in her sleep-sack, resting on the Boppy (on her way to thinking the computer is a member of the family as I'm sure Will did). My crook of my arm is sweaty, but I dare not move or put her down as I steal a few quiet moments while the rest of the house is asleep. I've got some Tool on the headphones, it's a warm summer night, and I'm sure there will be a day very soon that I can exhale.