Balance… or the divine impossibility of motherhood

There is a divine impossibility to motherhood.  That is just part of the design.   We will never have it all together, the perfectly organized diaper bag, the “schedule” of naps and nighty night times, both baby and ourselves clean and presentable at all times. Our kids will not fit perfectly into our lives.  That is not their purpose, nor ours.  Kids are LIFE.  They interrupt, they intervene, they are inappropriate and inconsistent.  And guess what?  So is life.

I am striving for balance, without really knowing what that will look like now.

I notice that the days where I am able to surrender, miracles happen.  Phoenix will put himself down for a long juicy nap, and I will find myself sitting at the computer, doing exactly what I want to be doing. Meals get made, vitamins taken, and lots of smiles and laughter.  And other days where I decide to ENFORCE a nap time or some other “schedule,” he and I both struggle and nurse and cry and try to squeeze ourselves into my idea.  His ideas are usually better, clearer, and easier to accomplish.  My favorite of his new ideas is the “let’s stare at each other and laugh” idea.  I am convinced if the world leaders sat down and practiced this together, world peace would be the only possibility.

Phoenix has such a simple, complete joy in just being here.

He doesn’t need anything special (besides a dry diaper and a warm breast), and he doesn’t worry.  He’s not thinking, “hmmm… i’m 75th percentile for weight, what does that mean about me?” or “I wonder when I’ll roll from my tummy to my back.  Everyone else my age is doing this.”  He doesn’t compare, he doesn’t fret about the state of the world, He doesn’t care what others have.  He cares only about the eyes looking into his, the hands holding him, and the love he is recieving and giving.

I want to be more like my son.

I want to wake up each morning so excited to be here that I can’t stop kicking my legs into the air.  I want to find such delight in my husband’s face that I could stare at it for fifteen minutes, happy to just trace the lines of his smile.  I want to be so excited about my lunch that I bury my face into my meal and sigh with full body contentment when I’m done.  I want to spend my day with joy learning new things every minute, and working so hard to master things that at the end of the day, I surrender to the deepest sleep.

I am learning about Phoenix.  I am learning about motherhood.  As Phoenix learns to roll over, and laugh, and smile.  I am learning to let go, to surrender, and to release of the illusive concept of “Balance.”  To realize that balance is not some static fixed point that you arrive at and cling to.  To strive for balance is to be constantly open to change.  Just as the yogi struggles in tree pose, constantly adjusting ever so slightly to the right or the left, being willing to lean on the wall, or just fall over sometimes, and get up and try again.  Day by day, Phoenix and I will discover what it means to be in balance.

As I finish this entry, I hear the sounds of an awakening boy…

This blog entry brought to you by Phoenix’s 1:00 and 4:00 naps.

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