Today I am perched at the end of my writing chair. I’m wondering why the keys on my laptop are SO INCREDIBLY LOUD and how I didn’t notice that before. My back is hunched and also stretched slightly to one side, in an attempt to maintain front-heavy equilibrium. Why am I so uncomfortable, you ask? Won’t that hamper the writing process, you ask?
Yep. It’s extremely counter productive.
But it’s also the only way I’m keeping this baby asleep.
She refused to nap in her crib. She did this new thing while nursing, I’ll refer to it as: ‘The Snapping Turtle’ and after my continual surprised gasps, apparently couldn’t get comfortable. Obviously my fault. How dare I express verbal discomfort. Nipples are for snapping, mom. I decree it.
So decreed, I find myself with a napping baby in the sling. I’ve dedicated this first nap of the day to creativity and so, even in this less-than-ideal turn of events, I’m writing. I’m even drinking tea! Not hot tea, of course. Can’t chance a spill. So, you know, lukewarm tea. It’s good though. As a mom, most of the things I drink are lukewarm. Rarely are hot beverages drank hot or cold beverages drank cold. Lukewarm is the state of my beverages and somehow the state of my being.
It’s beautiful outside again today. These seventy degree days make shelter-in-place a lot more fun. Being in the sun helps everything. Of course, it also starts the internal simmer. Days like this I want to be in the mountains. I want to feel my shoes on dirt trails and the smell of growing things.
Lucky for us, we moved into our dream house a year ago and the smell of growing things is everywhere. The landscape here is unreal. The cherry trees, the dozens and dozens of giant tulips and carpets of bluebells. Even trilliums! We have bunches of trilliums here! I’ve never seen a trillium domesticated, so having some of my very own is about as magical as it gets.
The cherry blossoms are starting to disappear, replaced with new green leaves. There are less petals to sweep up, though they continue to form little drifts along our walkway like some delicate pink-stained snow. Spring is beautiful on top of the hill, with its birdsong and big trees and lush gardens.
Soon we’ll be back out in the yard, the Cub will be riding his bike all over the makeshift ramps that Ben built, and Bay will be in her sling, peeking out at the world, soaking in some Springtime scents and sights. I’ll be drinking lukewarm tea or maybe a second cup of lukewarm coffee. It’ll be wonderful, and now that we’re observing shelter-in-place, there won’t be nearly as many people out to see me weirdly hunched over and leaning to one side while I carefully shuffle around trying to maintain baby sling buoyancy.
Sending love from on top of the hill,
š