Today’s scribble is brought to you by Virginia Woolf. It’s a dedication of sorts.
I started this entry with “Dear:_______.”
It is for all you mamas who are always tending and attending, who find yourselves eating at the counter, who end up falling asleep curled at the foot of your child’s bed, who are woken up in the middle of the night by a sick child, whose arms are numb from carrying and rocking, and numb from those wee little heads that fall fast asleep on them.
This is for you. Let life sink for a moment. Stop for a second and see this self, having shed its attachments, be free for the strangest adventures. Rest your weary feet. Sit and let me reassure you.
It wasn’t so long ago that I was in your shoes. The physical demands of motherhood can leave you stretched and undone. There are times when you fall down on your knees and beg the sweet heavens for a night’s reprieve – a smooth bedtime and uninterrupted sleep. Sitting still gives only enough room to breathe. Any movement will shake the delicate balance of things.
I have something to tell you. It will pass. It will all pass. I have been able to seize the time for myself in the mornings. I can find it throughout the day as my children go about their business. I sit and have my coffee as I watch the sunrise in an almost festive atmosphere with my husband. My mornings have become peaceful gateways through which I tread softly and slowly. They are gentle openings to my day and I never forget that this is a luxury.
I feel like it is my responsibility to tell you this. It is also my responsibility to use this time well because I have time to think and to be and to create. I do this remembering those mornings that came too soon and those nights that lasted an eternity. Those days when everything feels unhinged – at my wit’s end with diapers, tantrums, and nursing. I write to tell you that I remember it all and I am here to say hang in there, you will come to this place too and sit and look back at it all, wondering how you got here.
Let me give you permission to rest. Sit and I will make you a cup of tea. I will hold the baby while you knit. I will feed the children while you sleep. I will care for you and give you time to be by yourself…
“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of – to think; well, not even to think…”
100 scribbles…hurriedly writing the here and now.