"Momma said there'd be days like this..."
I wake up angry. Angry that once again the neighbors have left their dog outside at the butt crack of dawn to wake the entire neighborhood. I had thought the problem was solved shortly after we moved in when one morning, having finally lost my marbles, I stood outside in my bathrobe and yelled at the dog to "shut up, dog!" The neighbors finally go the idea and for a while all was peaceful. Then, this past summer the same neighbors bought another dog. The barking began once again. All day long and most especially when people are sleeping. The dog barks early in the morning. The dog barks during nap times. The dog barks when the kids have finally fallen asleep at night. The dog barks every time it is outside and yet the barking does not seem to bother the owners at all.
The few hours of sleep I did manage to get last night seemed to have caused severe nerve damage to my neck and back. I can barely move my head from side to side, up or down. Grocery shopping this morning was excruciating and the groceries are still sitting in my kitchen awaiting placement in the fridge and the cupboards. I just can't bring myself to do it.
In less than an hour I'm expected at the kids' school where I will cut hundreds of squares from fleece for some kind of project I am not even aware of. This should make my neck and shoulders feel MUCH better.
"there'd be days like this, my momma said..."
The winter blues have hit full force around here. The bitter cold and mounds of snow have wreaked havoc on my mood. Did we even need the groundhog this year? Clearly there will be 6 more weeks of winter (aren't there always, though?) and I'm guessing even more than that.
I guess I'm not really doing well with my meditation word for this year. Breathe. I just need to breathe.
Lately my breath seems to be stifled. By severe cold. By exhaustion. By stress. By melancholy.
I was leaving the YMCA and saw a gaggle of mommies and their toddlers waiting for a gymnastics class to begin. Littles were crawling and falling and fighting all over each other as the mommies were trying to collect shoes and socks and diaper bags. One of the mommies had a sweet little baby belly to go along with her toddler and I couldn't help but be envious. That used to be my life. Toddlers and pregnant bellies.
I will never be there again.
As I stepped over and around the toddlers the mommies apologized with embarrassed smiles. I smiled and let them know I thought it was adorable. Part of me wanted to tell them that I had been there only a short while ago. I had crazy toddlers and baby bellies once too. I rocked and soothed and watched and apologized just like they did.
I wanted to tell them how much I missed it. How much it made me ache to know I would not have that again. I wanted to tell them to cherish every moment even though I knew that was sometimes impossible to do when you are in it, and at times a little annoying to hear.
Instead I moved on down the hall with the sound of other people's children still ringing in my ears, trying to catch my breath.
I just have to breathe.
"Momma said there'd be days like this. There'd be days like this my momma said!"