One of the opening lines of a student's poem reads, I am a hamster on a wheel, spinning all about. I'm channeling her hamster tonight. My sleep is so ridiculous. Last night Sol was up for ever. He never cries but last night he carried on and on and on. Jeff actually went downstairs to sleep. So you'd think that after a really long day of running on very little, my exhausted body would sink into slumber. But here I am, typing away, even after a journal scribbling session at the start of this bedtime ritual. Is there that much to try and situate?
The seasons are beginning to shift. I smelled it in the air today. Sometimes shifting seasons keep me up. Moon phases. Anxieties. Neurosis. Excitement. Wonder. Plans. Agendas. Sleep has never been my thing. But right now I really, really need some.
I'll finally get down and then I'll hear it. My little guy beginning to stir in his crib. So I'll nurse him and kiss his head. Marvel at him. Wake up my brain and my senses. Again. And now we're at 3 in the morning and I can easily count the hours til Eliana will stir and the whole, wacky wheel will begin again.
Thank god for breath. Thank god for my strong, resilient body. Thank god for my good natured children. My husband who listens. My ability to use words to express myself. My girlfriend on the phone today, listening to me like a shrink when I desperately needed to be heard. My in-laws and their generosity and this beautiful house where I can track the snow fall on the banister, find space from my little ones, soak and take in this insane valley.
And even with all these blessings, I can't just fall gently down. I need to quiet my mind. I give such good advice during savasana, can do it in the studio, but not in the bed. Ridiculous hypocrisy. Ridiculous frustration.
Solomon will be ten months old on Thursday. This is so wild to me. He took three little steps today. It was the most beautiful thing ever. I screamed and squealed and then there was Eliana, pretending to be a baby, taking wobbly steps into my arms as well. She is beginning to really appreciate him. And he adores her. If only he could shift his adoration away from pulling her curls.
Speaking of which, she had her first haircut. We had her's and her's cuts, with Sol on my lap. I love my short and sassy do. And she looks more together, a little less Flock of Seagulls (thanks Case).
Chatting it up in the chair...
An impromptu Iza dinner afterwards...In other firsts, Sol's gonna be a musician. He loves to bang out patterns on the counter and bop to tunes. But his latest musical love is with the kazoo. The cutest thing ever. He grooves to his own beat. And thinks he's the funniest thing in the world. He's right.
And Els finally started dance class. Creative movement. She loves it! That and the Friday night dance parties at the Top Hat are her two favorite pastimes. Even without pushing it, my influence is finally taking hold!
My kids have a poetry reading this week. Their books are insanely gorgeous, their words so fresh and vital. I love teaching poetry to kids. Love it, love it. Read a ton of Mary Oliver in the tub tonight. Remembered how much poetry I read in college. How we'd read and dissect, read and dissect, write and read, read and write. What would it be like to do that again? What a gift that time was. Will I use my mind like that again? Does it even matter?
It does. Her poems reminded me how badly I need to get outside. Pay attention. Walk without distraction. Connect again with my mountain. My park. The winter strips that part of me away. My walks are more concerned with function. My concentration turns to the ground, to patches of ice, to potential pitfalls.
Good grief, Spring. Please, please show your sweet, green head. The white dazzles. Is all encompassing. But I'm ready for a change.
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