I woke up before dawn yesterday to feel the quiet of the morning before the rain came. I put on some rain clothes, slung my camera around my neck, and pressed a steaming to go cup of coffee before heading out the door. My little dog fellow, whom since moving out here has become such a good and tired dog was dissapointed that she would’nt be joining me, but I promised her another day. She would be of no help this time; Today was a day for birding.
The sky was loud with robins and other thrushes, the tufted titmouse, jays and crows and chickadees too. I spotted a swallow or two and of course heard the knock knock drilling of woodpeckers catching a mornings meal. But it wasn’t 15 minutes into my woodland walk, even before the suns first rays came up over the hill, that the rain started to fall down and the forest settled back in. I continued on, why not I thought, the snow has melted enough to where you can pretty much navigate anywhere you please at this point. I followed a deer trail down to a little vernal pool and spent some time watching the spreading circles of an April shower grow.
There is a peace in the morning that I had forgotten about. Before my nights were filled with constant wake up calls I use to consistently enjoy this time of day. Whether it was for a run or to bake something sweet, the sun called me to get up each day. Some years later, with my little wakeful one tucked in safe on my husbands side and a bigger boy conked out like nothing else on mine, I get plenty of rest and have been taking advantage of my mornings from time to time once more, knowing full well that this feeling of being well rested is surely limited as we approach July and a new little baby will soon be in my arms.
It seems seizing the day is something I am coming to understand more and more of the late. When it is nice, go out. When it rains, feel the wetness. When it snows, marvel in its beauty. I can’t help but really notice how seasonably you live in the country. It is not an intentional lifestyle here, choosing stories to tell about the passing of the seasons, and crafting up projects to match, it is just what it is. There is no choice. When the sheep are to be sheared its spring, when its time for haying- you do, when the syrup is running- you gather, and when the snow is deep- you feed your wood stove and hibernate.
And today our ever changing land is presenting us with a beauty of a 70 degree day… oh my, oh my, how good it will feel…
Some might scoff at the fact that I have both my boys right close by all night long. No, they don’t sleep in my bed. Well, not always at least. But, both of their cribs are tucked against the wall on one side and cozied up snug against our bed on the other. Some nights I writhe in pain each time I hear a babe stir. Some nights I just can’t handle one more nights sleep the way it is. I am tired. But, most every night I am comforted by the knowledge that each boy is safe and sound right by me. Miles has never been a good sleeper. And Rowan. Let us not even begin. I end up getting up so often for both the boys that it is much much more convenient to have them close by. I can usually talk Miles back into sleeping and Rowan, I just toss him in bed with me to settle him down. So, this situation we have going on seems to give me the most amount of sleep possible under these conditions.
But, as painful as the mornings come, I sort of don’t mind. Sometimes at least. I mean how else would I know Miles laughs in his sleep? Or that Rowan can “crawl” around just so and discover his pacifier on his own? Or, my favorite yet, one I would have completely missed is when Miles asks to hold my hand as he drifts back to sleep each night. It just started recently and let me tell you, it pretty much melts my heart.
taken October 18, 2009
Our exhaustion level has hit an all time high. My eyeballs are bleeding. My head is aching. My skin is drooping. Our patience level is slowly disintigrating. Long runs are no longer invigorating. My baby does not sleep. He may sleep fitfully in my arms for an hour or so at best. He will at times be milk drunk enough to pass out for a moment, but nothing substantial. Miles was a poor sleeper but I think Rowan is even wearing himself out.
Look at this face! (not mine)
That’s exhaustion. Even on a baby it shows after sometime. I suppose he finds this world all too interesting to close those pretty blues for even a few hours in a row. We have tried everything. Every sleeping arrangement. Every swaddle technique. Many different dance moves (courtesy of my lovely husband). Schedules. No schedules. I can not let him cry, he is just a little baby. He is also not ready for cereal so thats not an option yet either. Ahh! I suppose the one thing we need to do is let time go on. And let me tell you- time does go on. A two year old will remind you of that pretty quickly! We are not allowed to slow down. Whatever doesnt kill you does make you stronger I have to tell myself. It works most days. I play a pretty mean game of pretend with myself each morning when I wake up.
It goes like this- 5 am wake up (would rather just get up and end that god awful night than try and get him to sleep any longer)
“good morning Rowan! I love being up before the sun!”
wahhhhhhhhh says the baby.
“oh my! Let’s go get coffee! Not that I need it, because that was a beautiful nights sleep!”
Perhaps I am sleep deprived to the point that this post is ridiculous. I apologize in advance. But really a good mind game with yourself at times does the trick! Give it a whirl!