Like Riding a Bicycle

Two days shy of one month since I last posted a blog.  I've got a couple of half written drivel in drafts, and have managed to write a few pages worth in a prompt book I bought on Colfax, but the end of July has been a dry spell for me.

Not that my mind hasn't been churning.  Sarcasm abounds in the confines of my own head.  Smart retorts and clever beginnings are in there somewhere.  Just not enough time to sit and cohesively string them together into a legible piece.  (though that doesn't seem to stop 45, does it?)  What is it that has kept me from my morning pages, my weekly or so blog and full throttled attempts at poetry?

Well, a baby of course! The week or so before I went to stay with my daughter and help her prepare for the birth of her daughter, I was a busy gal.  Last minute toiletries - for mom and bebe!  Making sure there is enough food and coffee in the house (me!) for our return from the hospital.  A mother daughter (that's me and Natalina) bonding craft at a local pottery place the day before she was admitted.

Then the long process of labor and the short work of pushing and then voila!  A new human being has joined the earth.  What happens next is a blur.  Mom and J'ma both bleary-eyed and functioning about two levels above zombie.  Taking turns holding this little package of pink so we can try to catch some shut-eye.  Trying very hard to instill the age-old adage of sleep when baby sleeps.  Or at least rest.  Or at least try.  Or at least don't be vacuuming (not me) or doing laundry (yes, me).

My daughter is a single mom, and though I want to run roughshod on the process, I am holding back.  Natalina is a natural at nursing - she also has good motherly instincts.  It is the little things that come with time, like going backwards off the curb with the stroller, that I can impart.  My daughter doesn't need me to teach her to be a mom.  I've had my turn at that.  Deciding bedtimes, instilling consequences, picking pre-schools, choosing when to return to work.  I remember listening to my mom and making up my own mind about the nuances of mothering.  In that respectful remembrance, I am choosing to take a back seat.  At least I am trying and if my daughter looks at me and says enough - then enough.

I don't want to be the baby's caregiver.  I am finally at a point in my life where I like all my free time.  Time for the gym, time for Al Anon meetings.  Time to write!  And finish a piece.  And time to think and think and think.  What some might call nothingness, but what I know for me is a rejuvenation of my spirit and idea box.

Even if I wanted a new full-time job, my health and happiness would undoubtedly suffer.  Rheumatoid Arthritis is very energy sapping.  I can't foresee me in the long run being able to run after a toddler and exercise and write and not be dead by the end of the day.

I came home for a couple of nights to refresh myself.  Go to the 'Y' where everybody knows my name.  It is where I find community and commitment.  I also indulged in a pedicure, because why not?  And I needed one.  A little pampering goes a long way to making me feel better.  And I do feel better after a night in my own bed, OK - air mattress - but MY air mattress!

Another bonus to leaving one daughter yesterday was the pleasure of picking up my other daughter at Denver International Airport.  I hadn't seen this beautiful quarter centurion for almost a month!  Way too long for this mamma.  Her whirlwind adventure of bopping around the county of my youth, then off to Israel with Birthright, then back to NYC and the grand finale of rest and relaxation down the shore was regaled to me in the car and over dinner.  The stories and photos were great and I also reaffirmed my dislike for Mexican food, but that is another blog for another day.

Right now, I am yawning over my keyboard.  I know my younger daughter is probably tired too, having had her first night alone with baby.  My other daughter seems pretty refreshed, but also proclaimed the joys of sleeping in one's own bed!  Tomorrow I return to my newest grandbaby for just a night or two.  Next week is mine.  Mine to return to my spiritual practice.  To write a gaggle of words and sentences and paragraphs and maybe even a stanza or two.  To try to slide into a Pilate Reformer class, or dance Nia with my tribe of beautiful women.  To attend the Poetry Society of Colorado meeting and see if I won a contest!  There's always hope, right?

I confess to you my reader, and to myself; I am happy to have tapped these words out.  I am happy to proofread them and press publish.  Is it my greatest body of work?  No.  But I am back on the bike and the breeze is in my face and I feel wonderful.

Time to Write,

Jane