selfcare Archives - pnw mountain mommy

I woke up with a vision.

It was sunny, it seemed soft and inviting. Tulips were everywhere, our trees were parading their fresh green leaves around like it was Paris fashion week.

I. Was. Feeling. It.

So I made a grand pronouncement to my family:

“I will be taking my coffee on the deck.”

Everyone was impressed. They didn’t say they were impressed, but I could tell by how they reacted: Ben smiled with a mixture of hope and pity while he grabbed his coffee to go and headed to work. The Cub wailed about how he didn’t want to eat his oatmeal while simultaneously eating his oatmeal, and he couldn’t POSSIBLY go outside with me until he had eaten all of my eggs. The Bay Leaf smiled a big gummy smile and immediately had a blow out.

I was off to a great start.

Once the Cub had eaten all his oatmeal and his own eggs, and then eaten mine, he seemed open to the idea. Once the Bay Leaf had been changed, for the third time this morning, she also seemed game.

With my coffee still lukewarm, I struck out for the sun-washed wooden mecca of my perfect morning. It took three trips. First trip: the Bay Leaf’s baby quilt (handmade by my best friend Eryka who runs an amazing little etsy store which is currently dedicated to making masks instead of quilts). Second trip: My coffee mug and toys for continual baby distraction. Third trip: The Cub’s bike, and consequently, the Cub.

In my vision I sat on the handmade little quilt with my sweet bitty Bay Leaf. She would look up at me with frequent love and adoration, but would mostly just babble at her toys. In my vision the Cub jumped his bike off the little step on our deck and rode around in the sun, occasionally stopping to give me a hug and a kiss and tell me what an amazing mother and best friend I was. He’d offer to freshen my coffee, maybe bake me a scone. I would look out and see the top of Mt. Hood silhouetted in the morning light while I sipped my coffee and smelled all the cherry tree smells.

So, these things didn’t happen.

My coffee got steadily colder as I tried to keep the Cub from running over his baby sister. I waged a losing campaign to keep the Bay Leaf focused on her toys instead of trying to stuff pine needles in her mouth. I had to get up and wrangle Marmot who was barking at the neighbors (who, I’m pretty sure are convinced, I keep a rabid dog for fun).

Despite the often harrowing attempts at keeping the children from self-inflicted injury and choking, I did manage to sit in the sun for a bit. I got to watch the Cub scoot around on his bike and he asked me to take so many slow-mo videos of him my phone died. The Bay Leaf only managed to eat like… three pine needles and possibly an ant. Marmot, despite the ferocity of his bark and the fluffiness of his hackles, didn’t jump any gates and did get in a sun soak.

And I, in great swaths of seconds, managed to look at Mt. Hood and drink my coffee before tearing off after the toddler.

Was it my vision? I mean… no. But, it was nice. I did it. And I even got a kid-imposed workout in there too. Turns out my mom reflexes are still in tip-top shape. Ain’t nobody flying down a flight of wooden stairs on my watch.

Sending love from on top of the hill,

It has been a year since I’ve written in this space.

A lot of things happen in a year.

Time, for one thing, has disintegrated into the stratosphere. Now there are two children instead of one. Two children who require constant observation. Except for now, right now, the baby is asleep and the toddler has been given my phone to play games for the duration of Bay’s nap. The typical nap duration for this particular baby is about twenty minutes on a good day, so, this writing will be short.

I’m writing instead of eating. I haven’t eaten anything yet today. I did have coffee (the most important part of my morning) and I did feed both of my children. Somehow, my own basic human needs got pushed to the side. I’m not hungry first thing in the morning because I’m busy. Both Ben and I are busy. He’s up with the Cub, I’m up with the Bay Leaf. Whichever one of us is up first makes oatmeal with blueberries for the toddler and coffee for us. Somewhere in the middle of that there’s changing diapers and the cub’s favorite show and feeding Marmot and making sure Marmot has his meds and then Ben has to head to work and here we go!

So, I’m writing instead of eating. I’ll eat when the baby wakes up. I’ll make myself something quick and easy for lunch while simultaneously spreading peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat for the Cub. I’ll dish up some veggie/fruit puree for the Bay Leaf to smear all over herself. That will be lunch. It will be a chaotic affair with laughter and messes and push back and impromptu dance parties. It will be, another lunch in quarantine.

I’m writing instead of eating because I haven’t written in a few weeks. I took a class, a writing class, with a bunch of very talented writers online for a few months. It was amazing. I wrote every single day. I wrote in ways I had never written before. One thing I learned was to come to my writing with nothing on my mind. Start typing whatever pops up and then go with it, follow it through the thickets and into the dark corners or the open spaces where the light pours through. Go in and keep burrowing until you tell your truth, whether it be mundane or earth shattering.

So, I’m doing that. I’m sitting here, listening to my stomach growl and writing my truth. Writing is one of my basic needs, and though it isn’t feeding my stomach, it is feeding my soul; trite but true. I’m going to let my son look at my phone for twenty minutes so that I can feed my soul. I’m sure a few parenting blogs out there would be scandalized.

Twenty minutes is not enough time to get into the vastness of the current climate. This shelter in place, this pandemic, this unease. There’s a heap of anxiety surrounding our lack of information. I have a sneaking suspicion that all of us will know people infected with this virus (I know two, and I may have been three), we may even know people who die. This is a time that will define a generation.

But there are bright moments. There are little corners I can sweep up and let the light in. As tiring as it is to have no break from my kids, I love my kids. Being together has been an eye opener on how much fun we have as a family. It’s not perfect. There’s screen time guys, and sometimes, a lot of it. But there’s also building little bmx tracks for toy bikes, there’s singing songs and making mac n cheese. There’s bouncing babies who giggle and running toddlers who can twirl and do a two-step.

I have been stepping up in a way I didn’t realize I could, until I had to. I’m crushing this constant parenting expectation without escape. I thought a week in I would be muttering to myself and eyeing my beer fridge (we have a beverage fridge full of beer, because, pandemic priorities) by nine a.m. Turns out? By nine a.m. I am elbow-deep in cardboard ramps and makeshift foam pits. By nine-thirty I’ve done two silly dance contests and paparazzi-ed my baby.

It’s not that bad, in fact… it’s pretty good.

I’m worried about my loved ones, may parents, my extended family.

But, with what we’ve been given? I’m pretty content in this moment, sitting at this computer, not eating, but typing. Giving myself the space for creative nourishment.

That being said, twenty minutes are up.

Time to grab a baby, feed my stomach, my toddler, and maybe try to wash a dish.

Sending love from on top of the hill,

Try Some Self Care, They Said

Writing Instead of Eating