I found my parenting mojo back tonight. I wasn’t really aware I had lost it. I mean, I knew things weren’t going well in that department. I just figured it was the fog of depression and total exhaustion I’ve found myself in for the last several months. Now I know that on top of those things, the mojo had gone MIA.
The minimal windows in this house are the bane of my existence. Even with this handicap however, the Colorado sunset peaked in where it could and beckoned. Loud. It was a little coldish and already after dinner and Scott was at a business meeting. So I had dinner cleanup, getting them motivated, and bedtime still stretching ahead of me. All by myself. And it was already 7 o’clock. That’s some loud beckoning. I’m still not sure what possessed me really, but I ran down the stairs, “Boys! Let’s take a walk and go look at the sunset!” I knew by B’s tone I’d struck gold, “GREAT idea, Mom!” Add in Ash’s gleeful, “ME!! ME!!” and Caid’s faster-than-snail-pace cleaning off of the dining room table and the whole thing was a success before we’d even set out. Not to mention the approving “Wow, Mom! You can load the dishwasher fast!”
Then there we were. Ash in the backpack insisting I hold his hands. Caid running ahead, ever the leader, calling, “Just over the horizon guys! Just over the horizon and the view will be great!” Bridger processing the larger things of life. “It’s hard with friends. You have to decide to either say goodbye to them and let them go, or do the hard work of staying in touch. But it’s like, if you’ll say goodbye you can open up to a whole new set of friends. Not goodbye forever. Just goodbye to sort of...move on.”
Asher thought the sunset was “beauful! beauful mountains! beauful sunset!” He’s right. Those Rocky Mountain sunsets sure don’t suck. Even with buildings and lights and houses obstructing the view it’s still magnificent.
As we walked along I felt it. My feet finally hit the ground. I’ve been waiting for that moment for months. To feel HERE. I’m not sure in Colorado was what I needed. Inside the comfort of my role as those three’s mama--that’s a pretty good place to start. Go figure we’d find it on a walk. “Just like old times!” Bridger noted. I agreed. Except it was just like new times too.
Walks were how we landed in England too. We finally quit staying inside when it rained. Bought wellies and buttoned up our jackets and walked. We discovered all kinds of things. Paths here and there. The vast hidden tree gardens right behind St. Mary’s. Then we moved to the village and the paths of discovery were nearly overwhelming there were so many. Paths through horse pastures and woods. Along centuries old farms-turned-golf courses. Ancient rights of way. Parks. Churchyards. All around in our wellies we traipsed. I thought we were discovering England, but now I’m not so sure. I think it was each other. Our own rhythm. Caid needs to hold hands and run ahead and lag behind. Bridge wants to talk. And talk. And talk. He rights the world, and his own heart, one footstep at a time. Ash snuggles down in and grows calm and quiet--the only time of day he’s ever like that unless he’s asleep. And there I am. Leading the way. Listening. Talking. Holding hands. Holding the space. Carrying the littlest boy. Challenging the biggest. Reaching out to the middlest. Right there. With my feet on the ground.
There’s my mojo. Phew. I thought I’d lost it for good. Turns out all it needed was to take a walk.
