Today.
Today is a day where I want to keep the blankets firmly (and warmly) over my head.
Today also happens to be a day where that most likely will not happen.
Today is a day where I had intended to write a sweetly sentimental piece about toddlerhood, and how hard it is- because, ohmygoodness, it is SO HARD- and for every moment that folks implore you to not blink n’ miss it, you have another moment where you’d sell your very foot for one quick trip somewhere (anywhere) without mittens and peeing.
I had intended to write this because thankfully, wonderfully, and somewhat sadly, my last baby is way out this phase. But it’s still near enough that I remember HOW HARD it was, and I think we all need to remember that it’s okay when things are hard, it’s even okay when you don’t particularly like your role in this here household, and the world won’t end if you occasionally resent every last thing you touch, feel, and see. (Especially in the middle of the night.)
I don’t think I’ll ever be so far out of my babies’ babyhoods that I won’t still hold a smidgen of utter relief that I’m not physically wearing one person while keeping slippery other people’s heads above bathtub water. It is a downright beautiful time of life. Important. And yes, fleeting. BUT SO HARD and it’s okay to say that. To mean it.
Because having kids who know how to use the bathroom and (generally) wash up and play Bananagrams and crazy card games before bed is so. Much. Fun. (Also hard and eyeball-breaking and exhausting to your toenails, but fun.) And this phase will pass and the next will pass and eventually I’ll have kids who road trip with me as semi-adults on the weekends and I’ll grieve when they’re not with me and that’ll be hard, too.
I think I’m starting to realize that every phase is hard and every phase is beautiful and every phase is an utter relief.
I wanted to write about that today.
But.
But it felt false in the face of yet another school shooting. (The 11th in 2018, to be exact.) The kids in Kentucky who were gunned down have been on my mind and in my broken heart. (As well as the kids in Texas and and and…)
Because suddenly the idea of dragging a toddler to yet another doctor’s appointment doesn’t seem so trying in the grand scheme of things. Because the kids who were injured or killed are (and were) someone’s toddler with whom they wrestled over naptimes and food preferences.
And that’s not to say that those two feelings can’t operate independently of each other. They can.
But maybe not today. Maybe not for me.
Instead, today is a day of scrubbing countertops and bleaching towels, like maybe a fresh set of sheets will keep my children from being shot in their daily lives. Crazy, I know.
That said, it might work better than thoughts n’ prayers- and will at least stave off the flu for a little longer.
So today’s self-care involves eating cupcakes for lunch and playing trucks on the (really pretty ridiculously clean) floor of the smallest small’s room. (With him, you guys. I’m with my four year-old for the cupcakes and trucks portion of the day. I swear it.)
Me today. (Also my son.)
Today is a day where most everything is hard. Except for the things which aren’t.
So those are the things I’ll be doing today.
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