I'm not exactly sure what time it is....whether the clock has signaled the end of one day and the start of another. It's late and I can't quite sleep yet.
Seattle was good and there will be more stories to tell. Right now, I'm spinning a bit. My eyes are bleary and my heart is aching.
I just had a good cry. The kind where you call up a good friend that you know you can pour your heart out to and let everything fly. Oh, my, and did I cry. I thanked her as I was getting off the phone - thanked her for listening to me and for making me laugh. I told her, only half-jokingly, that she was my go-to person when I needed to cry. She said that there must be two or three other go-to people in my life because I hadn't called her for a while. Then I felt guilty for not calling more.
I realized that I don't get upset that often. I mean - really, really upset, that much. I just exist in a survival mode of diaper changes and alarm clocks, sweaty palms and library fines, soured milk and sippy cups.
Romance of course, changes all of that. I was ready for a romance to sweep me off my feet and, in the process, it swept aside all of my coping skills for surviving as Mom, single in a city where I know very few people and have a limited number of people I can call and request a date with a chai tea latte.
As I was bathing Zac tonight and he kept wiggling away from my grasp, howling, "Nooo, no, no, no, no" and clutching his cups protectively against his chest. He was afraid that if I got a hold of him, I would make him get out of the bathtub. He just wanted to sit and play with his cups in the warm water. To hell with his Mom's schedule or forces of chemistry that cause warm water to cool to the touch. To him, he was perfectly content in that moment.
I'm trying to reach that clarity. I am.