Stepping back again

I'm pretty exhausted right now, due to a gassy-baby Sunday.  The child barely slept all day.  But he's doing better at night--actually, really great at night, so I'll catch up, I think.

This is a tiring time of life for me.  And very, very blessed.  Do things always come in extremes?  I wonder this at night, when I think of all the people who tell me to treasure these moments, but then I forget to treasure them because I'm busy hunting for my keys because my brain left with my free time.

Jaya has been gone all weekend, which is good because I need to get back into the swing of things.  We move in a week, and she won't be coming with us.  I don't regret a single moment of having Jaya work for us.  We've learned so much and I've already become SO much more confident about living here, but I'm excited about having a kitchen that is my own.  My chapattis have been getting better and better, too.

I'm torn about moving.  It will be wonderful, I know, but I don't like change.  I believe this is due to my lack of imagination.  I can't fathom how things will turn out.  We'll just have to see.

Once again, after having a baby, I'm filling up with creative juices.  All these ideas, all these thoughts.  They come to me in dreams, I mull over issues and see wonderful things that I would like to write about, or photograph, or paint.  My book always calls to me-- it almost hurts.  I really want to do more visual art again.  I feel far from it.  All the creativity... but NO TIME.  No time.

I make lists.  These are my goals for the month. They are modest goals, but I don't get them done.  Sigh.  Big sigh.  I will not wish this dear, maddening, sweet time in my life away.  Not one minute in delicious baby time, not one long complicated story from a six-year-old boy.  I won't will it to pass.  I will take the advice of those older and wiser than myself, and not rush it.

You can't spend all of your life frustrated, you know?  Better to sink into it.  I love them, I love them.  They are slowly making me into the person who I really want to be.

The book will get written some day.  Maybe this will be the month that I make my modest goals.  And maybe the pigs we feed with our scraps, down the hill from us, maybe they'll sprout wings also.

It could happen.