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The (Occasional) Life of a Musician's Wife

The Calm Found In Joy Often Has To Be Worked At

This morning started out horrendously.

And once again I was fraught with emotion.

Feeling weak and inadequate I prayed for the patience.

Patience to wade through, WAY before dawn – the constant crying and fussing.

It’s been night after night of restless-ness with Abby, whose new routine the past 4ish weeks; seems to be that of waking every 2 hours and nursing constantly throughout those precious, far-off, dream-state hours.

It’s not so much that I am complaining (or maybe I am).

It’s been night after night of waking and wanting (for Daddy), with Wyndham.

This combination? Has me in a tizzy. It’s times like these when I drag my aching legs out from under the duvet and swing my feet to touch the wood, that I put every ounce of my being into prayer. I love my babies. It’s not something I ever planned to do alone.

I long for the slow and lazy Sundays where my family is complete. Where souls little (theirs), and big (mine), had better rest because their world is as it should be. Where vinyl is the only method of music, save occasional interludes with the guitar or uke. Where pancakes with berry compote, yogurt and rich maple syrup are essential and greeted with leaping limbs of joy.

This longing calls to me, this momma on her own; to snap out of it and do the best that I can do. Even if the littles hate the breakfast I cooked them (2 separate dishes). Even if they are crying unless being held, launching everything and anything down the stairs. Even if holy hell tantrums explode unless an iPhone or Disney movie comes to the rescue.

That’s when I inhale the pungent, dark, heavenly-earth scent of my steaming black coffee – breathe: 1,2,3 – and take pleasure in the smallest of things. A wisp of hair, a fleeting smile. That’s all I need to dust myself off again, brush my teeth – get us all bundled up and head out into the cool, crisp, open air.

It’s on this walk that we all became more calm, and an easy happiness set in. The sun was bright (thank-you Mother-Earth); the lake’s glare was frosty and shimmery.

This post is dedicated to all those mamas out there who have a musician for a husband. Or any type of career that takes your mister away, often – for extended periods of time. Know that you are nothing short of amazing and your best? Even if you loose it on occasion? Is nothing short short of splendid, completely adequate and ENOUGH. More than.

More on the Babbles …

7 Months: Late But Not Forgotten

Gettin’ Jiggy With the Lorax

Babble’s BFY All Up In Blissdom

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