The body remembers

I’m not sure what to say right now. So randomness:

Things at my work are crazy from the minute I get in to the minute I leave and I have to work a bit at night too, just because of where we are in the project, and how people don’t seem to read documentation in advance. But also because I’ve held back in my planning to see if the launch date is real this time, which is my own thing.

I still am really liking it. Better yet I am getting on the book scene, in my professional capacity. While I don’t have TIME right now to really leverage this, it’s only a good.

There is still a piece of me that says when the site comes up, everyone will see how much I suck. And to some extent there’s a danger in that because moving a thing from potential to reality is that kind of gloss-removing process sometimes. But I am experienced, so I have to remember that.

Although sometimes when I have high-level meetings with the magazine people, I am reminded that I didn’t come up the ranks in a normal way and find weird gaps in my knowledge. Those moments both make me panic, and thrill me. They thrill me because that’s what I want to do, learn. Risk. All that. But then I freak out anyway. The good thing about being so busy is that I can only freak out for brief periods.

Regardless, I love the editorial discussions. I love them. Love. People like me. Sitting talking about stories. Love.

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Noah is his own special mixture of fear that I am failing him as a parent and wonderfulness. He is big into saying “I love you, X.” Like “I love you mommy.” Also, “I love you, teddy polar bear.” That’s to die for but I like the other side just as much in some ways. He tells me in fairly great detail every day at which points he missed me. “I cried at nap mummy because I was sad. ‘Cause I missed you.” I hate that he does, but that he tells me – can tell me, and does, both – is so amazing.

Although truth is of course fluid. Pretty much every day he has “soup” for lunch. The kind that is a tuna wrap with cucumber, for example. :)

Today we had a long discussion about dried up markers. It sounds dumb but just the thought that this kid who not so long ago did not know what his hands were is sitting there talking about how there is ink that dries up and the lids keep the markers wet enough to write is… so amazingly cool.

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I’ve had full body memories of labour in dreams all week. The feeling of Emily going back and forth over that spot where the cord was stopping her. The feeling of shoulders, butts, and legs slipping out. It’s been unpleasant. The worst dream so far was that Carl was driving, Noah was in the back, and I was in labour in the front and then had a baby whose bones were all broken and who was tiny, like a little wet bird, and we were trying to get to the hospital and Noah was crying and then the baby died.

Even when I have successfully got a life going that provides tons of “monkey mind” over my Emily memories, my body makes sure to remind me.

I am glad to be going away to the Briars. I need the downtime to reflect.