Mini MePosted: September 3, 2012
I go about the business of daily life now in miniature variations of its former rigid constitution:
Twelve minutes of yoga here. A shoulder stand on the nursery room floor there. I try to include a proper (pro-rated) savasana too.
Baby sized meals. Often eating whatever is leftover on my ten month old’s plate.
There is only time to do quick errands, between nap time and lunch time and story time.
The dog gets walked on a short leash now. Even though we’re far from any traffic danger, it lurks in other places, like shallow ponds and swampy marshes (snakes and alligators, not traffic, are the main concerns here).
We food shop for one or two days at a time— we only have two arms to carry things inside, after all.
In the end, everything adds up to regular portions. I have acquiesced my control over things, for now, which has made it essential to do things in bits and spurts if I want to eat and breathe. Life is a series of short, intense moments—of learning, play, and tears.
There are other things, though, that I am consuming at a much more rapid pace:
Books. I’m quickly reading literature again. Like 2 novels a week, devouring it, staying up late and waking up early to greet my titles.
Wine. A bottle every two or three days. It sometimes feels like life is a vacation. Husband prefers his icy Yeungling (maybe the novelty that it is available here) but sometimes he’ll share my bottle.
Showers and baths. They feel so good, morning and evening and sometimes afternoon cleansing watery rituals.
Sleep. I know should be letting my hard working husband sleep more than me. He’s the one at work for so many hours everyday, after all. I’m home: shopping, decorating, eating, napping, playing, and reading. But, he insists on letting me sleep in the mornings so he can play with our boy. Its hard to argue with that.
Phone calls. I always used to be the one who texts back to respond to a voice mail. I’ve talked the same amount in the last two weeks than I have the whole rest of the year.
This last month was about final times, goodbyes, boxes and packing tape, living out of suitcases, eating quick meals, waking up in strange rooms, and starting again in new places. I’m encouraged by our decision to move, and the change. Even though I knew, months ago, that this was the right thing for us, it is still sometimes hard to feel confident diving into unfamiliar territory.
I used to rely on my daily activities to derive a sense of balance. That is impossible now. Life as a Southern Housewife is a jumble of inchoate ideas for routine and activity. Its easy to feel like I’m having a bad day when my Vriksasana gets blown out of alignment because the baby wakes up early from his nap. Or I get hung up thinking its too late for lunch, too early for dinner. But, I try to remember to breathe, and that these are small troubles with easy fixes. So I’m relaxing into my new life here, aware that Friday nights may not be able to include a double yoga practice, but they also will never include sitting in smoggy traffic on the expressway. It is a welcome trade off after five years of city life. And honestly, even though I can count on four fingers the names of people I’ve met down here, I feel at home.