The attacks on Paris really shook me up. All week long I’ve been having nightmares. In my sleep I’m separated from my children by an unforeseen event and the fire has gone out in the hearth. In my dreams the jungle is at my door and my babies are not. In my mind I pray fervently that I have prepared them well and that they can survive on their own until we are reunited. Minecraft survival skills aren’t really that useful so I’m really worried…
Then I wake up sweaty and sucking in air and I go look at them in their cozy beds and I say thank you to God because it isn’t my door that the jungle has actually reached.
But then I try to go back to sleep and I simply feel afraid. I can rationalize my fear, remind myself of the facts and think of joyful things but I still can’t fall back asleep.
I NEED my sleep so this won’t end well, plus it is rather surprising. I’m not fearful by nature. Fear and anger aren’t really my jam. I’m more prone to happy or sad crying and generally (dramatically) over reacting to mundane occurances. For example, I spent 15 minutes crying in my car yesterday because Finn looked so grown up when I visited his classroom. There was probably a better way to spend that time, like running a mile or something, but it is really hard to run and cry at the same time, people, so cut me some slack. Dang.
So today I did what I always do when I feel blue. I tuned into the little things that make up my life. I tried to consciously seek the beauty of ordinary moments that one by one add up to a day.
Like walking home from school, happy to have my people returned to me. See brain, no zombies are chasing anyone!
pompoms on hats made with love
pompoms are soft and lovely. Like kittens. Right?!
Hugging sweet , clean, sweet smelling boys. He is not being swallowed by an anaconda. Not even a little.