Being small

by little red pen

I was not at my sparkling best yesterday. I was tired from a late and stressful meeting the night before, we’re ten days into the school holidays, work is piling up, we’re buying a house, and I am completely and utterly over cooking weekday meals for five. No disasters, but not much lightness and joy either. I felt like I was swimming through concrete most of the day.

And then two sets of arms reached out and pulled me to shore. At lunchtime, the Rabbit woke from his nap and saw me looking sleepy beside him. “Let’s just sleep some more,” he said. We curled up on the sofa together and he arranged the blanket over us, carefully tucking it around my toes. Ten minutes of letting myself rest with my baby, and I had enough energy for the next bit of the day.

Then later, the Cat spotted me looking probably utterly pathetic. “You look like you need a hug, Kits,” he said. And those two boys wrapped their arms around me, and we breathed in each other’s softness and warmth, squirming gently in our little triptych. Maybe I needed to let myself be small to garner the strength to be big.