A tough thing about this gig is the polarity of moods. From great to terrible and back again. I can hardly keep up. Yesterday I had a major mommy win in which I fulfilled my vision of coaxing both little girls to sleep in their carseats so I could watch the ocean crash against the shore.
While they slept I indulged in my guiltiest pleasure (Instagram). And I started listening to a new audio book: "Yes, Please" by Amy Poehler. Before I could get too settled in the baby woke up and then the big one woke up and the peace quickly morphed into loud tears.
The rest of the day followed suit. Skyla cried the whole way home. Messes ensued, forming faster than I could fix. The baby is becoming a munchkin. She rarely stops moving and she can climb onto our bed by herself. She has teeth and a mischievous giggle.
My children, they lasso my heart with ribbons of sweet baby's breath, and they squeeze out of me all the energy and patience and resources I have to give. They are relentless demanding little bosses and they kick my ass on a regular basis.
The joy and the misery are two sides of the same coin. I can't have a front without a back, an up without a down.
Buddhism teaches about equanimity: seeing good and bad as essentially the same. Not letting yourself be pulled too low or high. Practicing nonattachment. When I start feeling strong negative emotions (and when I remember) I pray for equanimity. Not indifference but evenness. So that my heart stops beating to the rhythm of anger. So that I don't slip and say something I regret. So that I can give my little loves a decent example to follow.
It's hard. A continuous practice. But when I write about it, it becomes that much easier.
By default we take our troubles with the utmost seriousness even when we know they will dissolve should we allow them.
Ultimately, we have control over very little, but we do have control over our moods.