Little Things

My mornings begin with a tiny gesture, a small offering left on the table outside our bedroom: a mug of hot coffee.

This sounds weird, I know.

Lately, my mornings have been beginning earlier than I would have ever contemplated. I'm not an early bird by any stretch. Too early, I even feel slightly ill. But I have learned to take my opportunities where I can these days, and early mornings can belong to me. Before little man, I would get up, not too early mind you, and wake up slowly, reading the interwebs, all the blogs, news, while slowly sipping my coffee and rejoining the world again. I haven't had that for a while. Quite a while. And I kind of miss a little morning time to myself. So, when my husband gets up for work, I get up too. Kind of, since I don't actually get out of bed.

That makes me sound lazy, that I stay there. But W. has usually wormed his way in by that point, snugged down between us. I know there are many opinions on this, but for us, it works. He wakes often, trapped against the side of his crib, unable to turn over to the left due to his weaknesses on one side of his body. It has to be scary, to awaken in the dark, alone, unable to move. During the day, he compensates for this. He's like an acrobat really, for all his limited mobility. He has ingeniously devised his own system of movement, graceful and effective. But, eventually, he winds up with us. Sleep is important, any way that you can get it. Yet that means in the mornings I am tethered, as I have not managed to move him back to his bed without waking him. He always knows.

So I use this time instead, that I am awake and he is asleep. The room slowly grows brighter and sunnier, following that pre-dawn grayness, tinged with pinks and yellows. There is usually some book or another next to me.  I hear a slight clink as my husband sets a coffee down on the table outside our room. Sometimes I hear him quietly making his way down the hall, before the clink. Other times I hear nothing until I hear the sound of the front door closing as he leaves. Those mornings I slip out from under the covers, bare feet on the cool wooden floors, everything cool now really, these early spring mornings, and open the door just a crack and spot my gift right there, waiting for me. I tiptoe back, making sure not to wake W. and plan and read and dream and yes, read the internet too, while I wait for him to wake.

It's kind of like a secret, but not.

Getting Hygge With It

There is something intrinsically so appealing about the Danish/Nordic lifestyle, the feeling of coziness that they call hygge. As an American, I feel that I can disappear into my endless to-do list, which gets longer everyday. My son has cerebral palsy, and we are running to therapy four days a week. We have at least one specialist doctors appointment a month. And that is of course in addition to all of the rest of our everyday things we have to do, that everyone does. Pay bills, grocery shop, clean, work if we work, go to school, all these things. Where do we find time to indulge our own selves, to take care of our own souls? It's a rabbit hole for sure. The answer is that we need to find time, make time, just let stuff go a little bit, and enjoy the moments before they are gone.

This is something I have been reminding myself for a week or two now, since reading a few books on the subject, and looking at Pinterest and YouTube.

It's the food that is drawing me in right now. I used to love spending time in the kitchen, making soup and baking while dancing around drinking a glass of red wine. Now, I feel like food has a different focus. W. is not a great eater. We have to practically stand on our heads to get him to eat, and we always need to add more fat to his food, just to increase calories. His CP also causes him to lose weight easier, as someone with CP actually uses 30% more energy than someone who doesn't. Last week though, I began to relax a little about food. I would get so stressed about it ~ and I honestly think my stress and anxiety about W. eating was affecting him. The past two weeks he has been eating like a champ. Perhaps it is the food, as I am spending more time making food - and not with medical instructions on my mind, but love. Care. The instinct to feed those that I love good food is very strong in me, and I think by burying that part of myself somewhat, it was reflected in the food I was making, and thereby perhaps extending itself to my boy. I could be crazy, but I do believe that it could happen. We have been enjoying pancakes, muffins, and I plan to make homemade pop tarts tomorrow. I have made lemony salmon, quinoa with avocado and a squeeze of lemon, meatballs for the boy, and he has eaten them all with relish. I've used fun plates, my china, and some dishes made by hand by my mother-in-law on her potters wheel, making the meal even more special. (W. does not eat off the fine china however, lol)

And if I end the night with a glass of wine and a Reese's peanut butter egg, then so be it. By letting myself enjoy the process, I think that W. is enjoying the product. I even had some fun with an ordinary peanut butter and jelly the other day, cutting it into a whale shape when serving it with his all time favorite Goldfish crackers.

The weather lately has also been amazing, and we have been taking advantage of it as much as we can, and in a hygge sort of way. Soaking up nature, the sun, the wind. Walking through the woods, even just sitting and enjoying a few minutes on the porch.

The night though has always captivated my little 2 year old. He is fascinated by it. On some of these nicer nights, we have gone and stood outside, looking up at the dark sky, lit here only by a few stars but still, beautiful, twinkly. He laughs, a real laugh, which rings through the quiet as he throws his arms skyward. A perfect moment, for this mom.

Saturday Snapshot - April 8

Marlow, genuflecting in the morning light.

Saturday Snapshot is hosted by West Metro Mommy Reads