You guys. I have no effing idea. My sarcasm is stronger than ever. I’m still silly and impulsive and if you could see me now as I type this you would die: I’m BLEACHING my hair platinum while on my spin bike in my bedroom, wearing slippers (and not even socks), undies and a robe thrown over my arm so it doesn’t catch. Don’t believe me? Here’s a hint of thigh and my robe-balancing arm.
I’m anxious. I’m so anxious. I’m hardly sleeping at night and instead lay next to my husband, listening to him breath and replaying our evening conversations about his business and the country and our family. I think about my mom and aunts and my medical professional friends’ physical and mental well-being in all of this. My brain struggles to wrap around my kids’ future and if their school year will end at my kitchen table or at a building a few miles down the road surrounded by their friends and classroom crushes and teachers who care about them almost as much as I do. I wake up only a few hours later fully charged, brain pumping in 87 directions once again.
And I’m trying so damned hard to put on a brave face for those short humans, but I also think it might be healthy for them to see me nervous to an extent, to know that we don’t have all the answers either but we love them fiercely regardless.
I’m trying to celebrate little milestones and big ones with them. Sit and read with them. Go on adventures on our property to find remnants of bones and maybe have them even help me paint their bathroom (yet to be determined). I want to give them freedom and childhood and joy and also be honest and educate them to know that a lot of shit is a giant question mark right now. I want to help them find balance but I also want to say, “Eff the balance!” and let them hide in the recently-constructed giant blanket fort that takes up the back third of my living room while they giggle to each other and play Minecraft on their iPads.
And so I’m bleaching my hair and toning it platinum and I guess if I really mess up I’ll condition the crap out of it and start again in a few days or I’ll just shave my head because really, who cares?! I’ll love my husband and my babies fiercely and protect them from the world while simultaneously showing them it’s a beautiful, magical place with so many secret corners yet to be discovered. I’ll ache for my girlfriends and our “They are SO loud!” boozy lunches and I’ll ache for my family in Washington state and worry for their well-being.
I guess I’ll keep riding this bike without pants. What the hell else can I do?!