Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Escape

Sometimes I wish I could just escape. I feel so tired I literally could put my face down on the keyboard and sleep right this moment. I wander about drowsy and clumsy and brain dead. I keep reminding myself that this is not a forever thing. That this too shall pass but man it is hard some days. Not even the steaming hot cup of coffee can perk me up in the morning. My mood gets dark when I get too tired. I withdraw and struggle to be coherent and friendly. Woe...

And yet, I look around at my babies and I know it is all worth it. That mischievous impish little grin from Marisa, a squawk of joy at seeing me first thing in the morning, the now speedy crawl to get to my legs so she can pull up - beaming up at me with pride at her rapid accomplishments.

Matthew's whirling emotions are often like being hit by a hurricane of joy, frustration, sadness, excitement... telling me stories and thinking thoughts that I have long ago forgotten - reminding me what it is like to be a little kid again.

"Mommy we are going to grow vegetables in our garden soon. And they will grow and grow until they are HUGE" His eyes growing round and thoughtful at the idea. I can picture the picture in his head.

"Then we will pick and eat everything. And the carrots will grow SO big that we will make them into carrot cars and ride away together, kay?" At that, he is off leaving a trail of bread crumbs and sand behind him.

My head is swirling with the vivid imagery of childhood. I used to think my mom could make bird sounds - that she was amazing for calling to the birds even though now I know she was just whistling. I used to think that my dad could make the signals on the car turn on by his thoughts, like magic. Now I know it is the same flick of a finger that I use. I once was so terrified of my family because I thought they sent me to bed early so they could become big hairy brown gorillas. Terrified, I asked my mom if I could check her face to make sure it was not a mask, believing the truth lay beneath. I was three.

I wonder what Matthew will remember. I hope it is good and silly and fun. I hope Matthew continues to weave magical stories for just a little bit longer. I hope Marisa crawls toward me with that magical smile just a little bit longer. Even though I wish I could escape to a warm tropical place away from it all, I hope I never do.
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