...the other mother.

In the true spirit of "Not-Me-Monday"...
















...'nuff said.

...a pail full of diapers.

Who knew that I would find all the answers to my life, in this moment, in a pail full of dirty diapers. But as I opened the lid on the diapers today to add another to the pile I noticed it was almost full. Almost time to wash....again. And just before bed last night I had folded and put away the last batch. It is an endless circle. Never the smug satisfaction of having everything tidily finished and put away. It's like a finish line that keeps moving just out of reach. Even though I know that I will never get on top of everything I still feel this burning need to "feel" on top of most things. To have my surroundings tidy and uncluttered, to clear out the junk, check things off the list, put everything away in it's place. But this is just an illusion anyway. Arbitrary at best. Like those diapers in the pail, swishing in the washing machine, snugly wrapped around bum, folded on the shelf... they are all in the middle of a process. No start, no end. Surely I can live more of life in "process".

The only real finish line in life is death and I am certainly in no hurry to get there so I guess "unfinished" will always be my state of being...

...8 months.

My snotty, coughy, poor wee thing is 8 months old today... She is the happiest wee sicky I have ever seen, but only when she is in my arms. Making it hard to type anything, especially a well thought out blog post. I have started 3 posts in the last two weeks so when I do get a chance to sit and type with two hands I will be prolific.

I truly treasure that I am able to hold my dear baby while she breaths raspily on my chest. She has just fallen asleep sitting up on my lap. Her face caked in snot, as it is perpetually these days. Gurgling each breath through her open mouth. Goobers will glue her eyelashes shut as she sleeps. Under her nose and her bum, red and raw. Must be awful to have fiery pain at both ends. My clothes are all covered in slobber and snot stains and I thank the goddesses for giving nursing mothers immunity of steal. I can feel the sickness creeping in a little but I hold it at bay so I can look after my girls.

Perhaps this sickness came at just the right time. I broke down in tears this week thinking about how these 8 months have passed by and I have spent so much of it bemoaning how I have so much to do and am unable to do it. Being haunted by my overwhelming list of tasks so long uncompleted. Obligations unmet.... In trying to chip away at my list I have often been distracted and ineffective at any of my many jobs. The list is still there. The obligations must be met. But this week I have seen that I can slow down, choose my task and bring my full attention to that task alone. It feels good. I am glad the task that caught my attention was this one of holding my babe and being present to her as she struggles through her first crummy sickness.