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twilight mom

My head is the freshest and most clear for writing in the morning without the weight of the day pressing down on me or the beckoning of my bed.  I long to be a night owl sometimes, a mother who kisses her kids goodnight and then sets off to her own flights of fancy, lighting a candle and the creative fire in the waning evening hours.  That is so not me.  I'm the mom who on most nights falls asleep alongside my four year old after telling each other "fishy stories", our little bedtime ritual that began with my oldest long ago.  If I am up past nine on any given night, it's a rarity.

The new morning routine of no screen time, i.e. video games, ipads, laptops, means that I am not writing at my usual time.  I've agreed to commit to the same rules as my kids so we can spend the time focusing on the morning routine and getting ready for our day in a space of relative calm and attentiveness.  In the past there might have been struggles over getting off a game in time to make it to the bus, or stepping away from a blog post in order to get the lunch made.  It is undoubtedly better this way for all of us.  I think they are having an easier time of it than I am.  

So here I am, before making dinner, trying to write in this pocket of time I have.  I'm tired, and I feel like the words are moving through syrup rather than a flowing river, recalling the day rather than having the time and space to really reflect on it.  It certainly is a different perspective.  The glass of wine certainly doesn't help, but in my mind it sounds like a lovely idea... a creative moment with a chilled glass of summer red in the quiet space of boys gone to the beach for a before-dinner swim.  I'm giving it a go.

Today was preschool orientation, and Athen was happy to explore and introduce himself to some new friends.  He examined the dolls and realized they are neither girls nor boys (how funny to try to explain this), made "coffee" for a small group of moms sitting around a tiny kid sized table in the pink, play kitchen area, and colored a mini version of himself after asking why he can't just leave it blank and make himself naked.  Is there a theme here?  Oh, the stories I can see coming!  It's so funny and amazing to see him becoming more and more himself (decidedly with clothes thank goodness). 

I'm off to mash up some guacamole and make burritos for the boys, and then excitedly await my evening special delivery (the zines!).  Maybe I can be an evening writer after all.