daily cycle

I wake up (kind of) to face breakfast--my albatross in life--with small boys dancing around my feet like baby birds with mouths clamoring for food.

At midnight I drop into bed with my mind still whirring about the deeper things in life that have simmered under the surface all day; now it's quiet and dark and I remove the lid and sample their flavors. Finally it's time to feed myself; it takes a while to sort things out before I can fall asleep.

I don't think most women expect the tension from what I call "the mundane maintenance of life" that intensifies when we have children. Maybe it's just me--I get clogged up inside because I'm constantly hitting the pause button on my thought life to find lost shoes, answer "why" questions, handle crises, trim grubby fingernails, and focus on the expectant little eyes watching me. These beautiful and demanding things force me to come down from my mental treehouse and be fully accessible to the moment. At the end of the day, it's not what's checked off my list that matters, but how present I was able to be with the people in my path. And kissing those soft little cheeks at the end of the day makes it all worth it.