52 weeks of grateful :: the bubble bursting

Before our break, everything felt heavy.

We went away and each day I grew a little lighter. No responsibility will do that to you (unless you count having fun and being completely present with your children, responsibility). It's always the anchor that keeps everything together. Being present. Lately I have struggled with it. Responsibility is both a blessing and a curse. Responsibility for three small souls' happiness and wellbeing is both my greatest joy and, at times, my hardest task. The same for every mama.

Though my body was rested by the sea and the sun, my mind was not. Without the routine tasks of the day taking up my time, my mind clapped its imaginary hands and jumped with glee at the thought of being able to race a marathon around my skull every day. Entertaining all those thoughts that are usually only allowed a minute's spotlight here or there, between kindy pick up or swimming lessons or dance class or washing or dishes or craft or puzzles or painting or breakfast clean up or lunch preparation or evening bedtime routine. Thoughts of now, tomorrow, next month, next year. Five years from now, ten. What has been done, what hasn't been done, what needs to be done. What my children want, what my husband wants, what I want. What we all need.

Important stuff, and unimportant stuff. Tiny things and big things. Mostly tiny things. But enough tiny things make up a big thing. Lots of cracks, threatening crumble. Or a lovely big bubble, just waiting to burst.

On Saturday I cracked. My bubble burst. Over something tiny, unimportant, ordinary. It's always the tiny thing that sends you over the edge. The tears flowed uncontrollably as I sat on the floor of my walk in robe, the Small in my lap, looking curiously at my wet face. A face I am not sure he had seen before. He put his little hand up to the side of my face and pushed it to face his and he looked me square in the eye. Then he wrapped his little arms tightly around my neck and squeezed. More tears. That this little being who has very few words, knows exactly what is going on around him, knew instinctively what to do in a situation he had never been in before, knew exactly what his mama needed. Silence and love in the very same moment. And it felt really good to burst. For my emotions to bubble over like a pot of boiling water with the saucepan lid left on too long. I was grateful for the bursting.

I live a blessed life. A loving husband, healthy and happy children, supportive family, food in the fridge, clean clothes on our backs, a lovely warm home to rest our heads each night. My troubles are few. Things are changing. Or they're not. And they should be. Whichever it is, change is in the air. I like change. A fresh page. A new focus. No matter the size of the change, big or small. All these tiny changes have me feeling unusually heavy. I can't seem to find the momentum I need to get things moving. All the enthusiasm and motivation I came home with after our break has all but dissipated. Reality will do that to you.

*Sorry to go all drama queen on you. Really, I'm fine. Sometimes letting everything fall out on the floor is the best thing you can do for yourself.
**Linking up with Bron for Kidspot Village Voices. I'm sure there's less drama over there.