Andrew knows how to juggle. Actually he really does know how. He can hacky sack and do other sorts of funny things like tap dance. Along with working he cooks for us. And when he is exhausted at the end of the day he doesn't overthink or get emotional he just goes to bed. Is there actually a correct method to juggle? I always thought it was throwing things up and being fast enough to catch them all.
I want to have a clean house that feels welcoming. I want to be the type of mother that really sits down with her children and plays with and teaches them. But I also want to work on my writing and photography. I am frustrated when I look at the pictures I took of the girls decorating the tree. Of course once again the best photos were taken with my phone. When I think back to that day I remember how I was trying to balance the chaos with trying to enjoy the moment. I was making coffee, putting on Christmas music, getting the step ladder for Andrew, removing Rosemary from the top of the step ladder, removing broken ornaments, helping Blanche and telling her to wait for Andrew to finish putting on the lights, oh and trying to take pictures. No wonder when I loaded them onto the computer I was disappointed with their blurry and rushed fashion. Even if I was being still, Rosemary was yanking on the camera strap.
The actual moments of decorating the tree were fun. I was glad we had the music and the coffee. One year the chaos will be less instead of more. I just don't know what year that will be. I am okay with the chaos most of the time. Chaos is my life. Its not bad chaos. Its just a lot of little things all going on at once. I told my mother in law this week that it is almost as if I can do about three things at once, but usually there are four happening. And that's why I often loose my phone or leave my keys in the front door for a few hours, or forget to sign for my card at the store, or Rosemary literally almost jumps out of the cart. There is a lot going on. And I only have two children. I think they are both at very active stages. Rosemary is at a point where she is very mobile but cannot be trusted at any height other than her own stance. Blanche is getting better, but is still only three. They both need me a lot.
I write all this because today was a day when I felt like I needed to sit down and type. I read two different blog posts by mothers yesterday, and I was captivated by and jealous of their writing. I know deep down that I can write like them, with time and practice. But I really have very little time. Maybe there is laziness or tiredness mixed in. I can never tell if I am lazy or tired.
I am excited for Christmas. Even just taking a small drive to Houston to see all of Andrew's family for a couple of days will feel like a get away. I am always so eager to go. I want to travel more. I think with small children traveling just results in moving. We are not settled yet. Our family doesn't know what the next five years will look like. We have goals, and no one really knows what the future holds, but by simply signing eleven or twelve months leases we are saying that we don't really know. I like the unknown in a lot of ways.
One of the blogs I was reading last night, which I have written about long ago is The Road is Home.
I often envy her free spirited life and many travels. I know that my life and her life are very different though. But one thing she wrote really hit me. And I think she explained to me why I love traveling and moving around so much. She wrote:
"That’s the beautiful thing about connecting with other people, you’re opening doors that will likely stay open no matter how much time has passed. In this way I kind of see every stranger as a door waiting to be opened. Stories and perspectives just waiting to be unlocked, laughter and love waiting to be shared."
Meeting so many people and seeing not only new place but new perspectives on life is so refreshing and cultivating to me. When I see her posts and photography I just want to go. There are days when I want to walk around the house and get rid of half or more of my possessions. I want to go. But I know deep down that going will not change my life. It will not change the need for me. That is the heaviest thing to carry in motherhood. It is the need. I often sit to eat a meal and both girls are at my feet. Someone is maybe crying. I can rarely escape the need. And it is not that I do not like or even love being a mother. I do. Motherhood does not have to be something I either love or hate. I feel like this is where I am called to be. But the constant need and lack of personal time is what drains me the most. I use to think I was an extravert and that I got my energy from people. I still want to connect, but mostly with just one person at a time. And I want and need this time to just sit and write.
Blanche just came to me as I was finishing the last paragraph. She asked to sit on my lap so I could help her with her gold shoes. She is playing dress up and needed help. I could feel myself being even more relaxed than just a couple of moments ago. Sometimes just writing that I am tired of being needed is enough. I can then put it out there and remember there will be days when I wish I was more needed. And then Blanche told me she loved me, I kissed her and then she tooted on my lap. She has watched the same signing time dvd now going on the third time as I sit here writing this. I tried to get her to nap with Rosemary but Blanche seemed pretty awake. I also did not want to waste all my free time while Rosemary slept trying to get Blanche down. So I keep telling her to go play. I hear the clink of markers coming out of her glass jar on the wooden desk where she sits and colors. She has stollen most of my granola bar and bartered time alone with me simply just giving her a candy cane. Okay Blanche, here is your candy. Now go away. I will be a better mother once you go away for thirty minutes.
Well, once again I am back to rambles and forgetting what I was going to say next. I will say that typing is so much easier than handwritten journal entries. All of my old journals have posts that say I am going to write more. And I write more for about a week and then stop. But maybe I can start better habits. Better habits of pushing through and instead of zoning to social media I could sit here and type a bit more. Because deep down I was an artist first. The artist in me makes me the good and bad mother that I am.
Blanche just sang to me, "find a way to play together." I guess that's my cue.