The morning air it turning slightly crisp, evenings spent outside call for sweater and scarf (yippee!), and our meals consist mostly of watermelon and corn on the cob. This summer has been the best one in recent memory: not too hot, but not cold, not too humid, not too rainy but not dry. Just perfect. But it’s coming to a close and I’m not too upset about it.
For the summer I took a break from worrying about the future and about work. The lack of sleep helped–I felt entitled to get rest whenever I could get it. Yes, motherhood does come with perks: oh, poor me, I’m so sleep deprived, don’t expect me to do any work! It’s comforting to know you are in possession of a great excuse. Of course, it ceases to appeal as much when you realize that time doesn’t stop, and you’re still approaching 40 fast and haven’t done much at all with this life of yours.
So come September, you (and by you, I of course mean I) start to panic. I have a lot to do and barely any time or energy to do it. Last night, for example, the baby was awake from two to four, if not longer than that. I wake up in the morning feeling already tired and frustrated knowing that I will not get almost any baby(toddler!)-free moment for the whole day and then another wakeful night awaits me, and it’s all a very depressing roller-coaster. But don’t start to worry, it’s not postpartum hitting me hard, just normal motherhood. Because I also enjoy most of my child-laden moments. I do. My days are long and weary, but they’re also exciting and full of laughter: toddlers try to master something new every day, and they really are the funniest of people.
I am also finding droplets of time to read my first Joyce Carol Oates book (Mudwoman) and it’s an undeniable pleasure to let myself dive into that world, even if it’s for only five seconds at a time. And I have put on my reading list the other (not Rebecca) Daphne du Maurier novels. Because I am starting to plan a mystery novel of my own. If I am going to write any genre, it’s going to be mystery. Because it seems so hard to do, so why not try (and most probably fail yet again)? Right. Logic of steel here.
If I had just two good nights of almost full sleep every week, I’d be happy and on my way to great achievements. I promise. But I don’t have that. So let’s not expect that mystery to take shape too soon. Or maybe I’ll surprise myself. Ohh, what suspense already!