Have you ever felt like you just can't catch up? That's the way I've felt the past two weeks. I've felt like I've been at least an hour behind most days from the moment I wake up until the moment my head hits the pillow. For a person who always wants to be ahead of schedule this is rather disconcerting. There were times I'd occasionally oversleep before motherhood, but now I'm doing it constantly. I try to wait until Edmund is in bed to complete my daily tasks whenever possible, but when things are hanging over my head I find it hard to truly be in the moment with Edmund. This is not how I want things to be, so I'm trying my hardest to let the little things go. Quitting my job would be the easiest solution to constantly being behind, but this is not a realistic option. So for now I've learned to (gasp) leave unwashed breakfast bowls on the table to be washed at a later time. That's as far as I've gotten thus far in not sweating the small stuff. I still can't leave the house with an unmade bed, lest the stuffed animals shame me for my untidiness. Baby steps I say.
On Tuesday evening I was itching to check my email. Ten years ago I barely knew how to use email, but now this electronic form of communication threatens my time with Edmund. I went to our office, despite the fact Edmund would be in bed within the next 30 minutes. Because updates on where to park at school the next day just can't wait. Edmund followed me into the office. I noticed the card we got for Aunt Becca sitting on the desk and decided email could wait. Edmund and I needed to sign Aunt Becca's birthday card.
I retrieved the box of 64 crayons from the office closet and situated Edmund at his table. When Edmund signs cards he is very deliberate in his choice of colors and makes small strokes each time. No scribbling for Edmund. It may be that Edmund gets the most joy from removing and replacing crayons so much that he rushes through each mark, but I'll stick to the theory he is formulating each and every waxy line of color.
At first Edmund was choosing only the very few colors in the box of crayons that barely show on white paper. White and yellow-green are lovely to be sure, but the recipient of the card may miss the signature entirely. Thus I encouraged Edmund to find some colors with more oomph. He chose shade after shade of brown. Edmund is his own person and I didn't want to dissuade him from his choice of colors, so I commented on his marks and the colors he chose. "You made a line using burnt sienna. Look at the squiggle you made using tumbleweed. Wow you're drawing an E using raw sienna." Who knew so many shades of brown existed? Finally Edmund found a crayon with some color. I told him the shade of blue he had in his hand was called Carolina Blue. Edmund looked at it and decided to replace it in the box. Edmund reached back into the box, pulled out yet another brown crayon, and proudly declared "I'm going to color with Carolina Brown."
Thank you Becca for having a birthday. If I weren't behind on your card (it should be there soon), I would have checked email and forgotten my vow to make sure I truly enjoy every moment with Edmund. And I wouldn't have been privy to the knowledge that the baby blue color used to define UNC-Chapel Hill is about to get a complete makeover. Tar Heel fans prepare yourselves. The boys in blue are about to become the boys in brown.
