When You Have

It becomes a juggling act, with time, as a parent, dodging and bobbing & weaving.  Then landing again only to take off.  Emma fast asleep in that little bassinet thing with blankets under and all around her.  I’m in one of those landing times.  Quietude unusual, still and sane.  And while just relaxing here on the runway’s side, I collect.  Only about twenty minutes for this post, this parenting article, where some will expect some expertise imparted but really I’m making this up, learning as I go.  Actually more mere learning.  Not making anything up as I don’t know what I’m doing.  You need the ingredients to make something, and I’m still in the assembling stage.  But one trophy is little Emma over there, by the couch in her cozy beau cocoon, in her cute snooze.  I’m sure the rain outside helps somehow, or I’d like to think it does.  A quiet moment for a parent should never be wasted.  Ever.  And it’s not selfish to conceive the moment that way, I don’t think.  I’m just conveying what is, with the plane parked, me in a moment for me.  Which is important, I’m learning.  It keeps me together and stronger for Emma and her brother who next month turns 4.  How, I don’t know, but I need to learn and grasp all these dimensions quicker.  Not aiming to be the ‘perfect parent’ as that’s not possible, but certainly a more versatile one, quicker and more deconstructive, reacting with more accuracy.

It starts with time.

Time awareness.

Time usage and division, before the second and minute and hour voids multiply.

So I write what I reward myself, a moment for me.  Have so much to do right now, so many other flights to fly, but I’m parked for the moment.  And it’s lovely, the view from this captain’s seat.  The juggling and moving, buzzing will come back but I’m not worried about that now.  Cataloguing all I have to do today enough to make me precipitate to madness but I won’t let it.  I can’t.  Emma and Jack, the bro big, need more from me.  A more coherent character.  One thinking and swift, precise and poised.

Outside the downpour isn’t halting, nor does my immersive turns in this sitting.  I see everything, the picture and how it’s so much bigger than the one writing this not-at-all-authoritative or instructional article.  Just thoughts, breathing, centering, that Zen I studied in college and now full-circle, and me circling in that full circle.  The circle is full.  Of what.  Composure.  Coherence.  For me as this writing father character.  Or just father character.

In another landing, later, I have a run planned.  But who knows if that’ll happen.  If it doesn’t, then another time. Not allowing the likelihood or potentiality of the run not happening corrode this.  This landing.  My moment, looking at my daughter between types, light key pushes so I don’t wake her.  But I don’t think I could.  She sleeps better than I ever can, now.  And curse time, again, letting the petit amour turn 3 weeks old so quick, today.  How did that…  Why did that…  WHAT.  Time attacks and I attack back by acknowledging it and reacting to it as I do.  All parents, especially the writing ones should try this, just breathing in one of the placid pauses.  Which are more plentiful for some than others, I know.  But what you have, use.