Doodlebug is five months old today.
(And, yes, I am going to continue on and pretend like my last post wasn’t Valentine’s Day. Ahem.)
Five whole months. Who is this mini-human who sits in a high chair and wolfs down mashed banana and squawks like a pterodactyl when he’s playing? (And why does “pterodactyl” have a silent ‘p’? That is totally not fair. And “pneumonia”…silent ‘p’, who thought that was a good idea?)
has pushed and stretched me is pushing and stretching me. It’s a good thing, definitely. It’s just that all three of them have different needs, and figuring how to tackle each new thing is sometimes harder than actually solving the problem. Does that make any sense? Maybe it does if you have many small ones. I’m just constantly re-evaluating, redirecting, and re-inventing what I’m doing.
I used to play the violin. I was never very good and I blame my mother for driving me to quit (another story for another day). My favorite song to play was one called Perpetual Motion. I think I liked it so much because it was quick and there was always something going on. My life is a song of Perpetual Motion right now. And I don’t feel like I’ve changed much since I was the pitiful violinist who loved to eek out that tune. I’m still very much an amateur, and I don’t feel very good at what I’m doing most days.