The calm before the storm

The days have been rhythmic. We've swung into a slow and quiet routine of laundry and oatmeal breakfasts, quiet mornings at the coffee table with crayons splayed out in front of us. The weather is nicely accompanying the quiet- partly cloudy, chilly, a little bit of rain. I'm going to call this the quiet before the storm- the storm of change that is without a doubt hurling our way. Soon, things will be very different. The storm is big and black and hanging heavy over our heads, a constant reminder that things will never be the same again. But the thing about storms is they always pass.  Until then, we will continue to fill our days with snack times at the laundry mat and slow dancing in the living room to Ella Fitzgerald. We tap our toes, wrapped in wool socks and moose slippers, across the kitchen floor. We snap our fingers and throw our hands up in celebration that we are together- Kade and Mommy take on the world, one cup of chocolate milk at a time. The story goes like this: Things get hard, but I will forever have my little guy, my own little cheerleader. We will remind one another that there is much to be happy about, millions of things to be excited for, to look forward to. There are Lego castles to be built, sidewalk cracks to jump over, and many a peanut butter sandwiches to eat. We makes toasts at breakfast- to baths! to bananas! to raincoats! to Dotty! This leaves very little room for worry. The spaces are already filled. Our no-vacancy sign is up.

There is a balance. I've spent the last few weeks prioritizing, paying bills, buying a car seat, a new dress, going bowling. I've held fast to my opinions, worked diligently on my morals, stayed out past midnight, sticking up for myself where I used to shrivel down. And that is happiness, isn't it? To have balance between self and others, bills and bubble baths, dishes and coffee- it's important life stuff.

There is a lump in my throat- words trying to escape but being pushed back by reassurance. Reassurance that words not be said unless they are truly meant- as they can't be taken back and may be forgiven but not forgotten. A new life lesson- think before you speak- a reminder that there is a new, stronger self on the other side of this lump, waiting to be pushed forward.  You know, silver lining type of stuff.

I hope I can teach Kade the importance of balance, the importance of standing up for what you believe in, the courage to do what's right, even if it hurts. I hope I can teach him to laugh, to tell the truth, to be polite and kind. Through all of the hardships, I hope I can set a good example for him- to be strong and confident, to take care of business with grace. Life throws hard and fast balls, you have to catch them and toss them right back.

Of course, he teaches me these things too. How could I possibly be upset with this little "turkey" grinning at me from ear to ear? Thanks, little dude.

Things are changing, sure. But we're going to take this in stride, conquer our fears, show ourselves and each other that together, we're two peas in a pod. And together, we can take on the world.

Things are rhythmic but for now, they are perfect. Hanging in suspension between now and soon is right where we're supposed to be. Waiting patiently while the storm continues brewing- wearing our rain coats and dancing in the puddles.