So last week's power cleaning has given way to this week's power cooking. I'm taking a short coffee break (with the ceiling fan on high) and thinking about a million little things that have just now vanished from my memory.
Mmmm. There's one. I've been listening to Don Peris' Ten Silver Slide Trombones while I cook and thinking about how he and Karen Peris write such great music about friendship and parenthood.
Then I was thinking about my Enneagram type, which one book labels The Organizer (type three). That same book says that a pitfall of my type is creating the illusion of control through constant activity. My lists stare at me from the countertop, and I think, where's the illusion? I'm in control here. Look how my laundry's caught up and my coupons are updated and filed by category. We've even bathed the dogs.
It seems so real to me that I really have to look and pull it apart. Could it really be possible that I'm not in complete control here? Then, if I let myself get really still, my rich, creamy coffee coaxes them out of me. The worries. The fears. The unknown of what it will be like this time is always there, standing quietly in the background and observing my frenzy with a wry smile. And if I'm really straight with myself I can see that no amount of house-cleaning or meal preparation will ever answer the question that is there every night my head hits the pillow. Can I be big enough to pull it off? To be sleep deprived and still be kind and patient with Amelia. To discern and give whatever nourishment two precious souls need to thrive and flourish. To keep my heart open to theirs no matter how much it may hurt.
The truth is, I just don't know.
So I'll keep cooking and cleaning as a meager offering to my family, in the hope that I'll still be able to offer them the nourishment of my love in the days to come.