Mondays are my days to dissect motherhood. It's not precision surgery.
I deleted the facebook app on my phone. Again. The first time was a few months ago when I could feel the distraction monster creeping up on me. But then I traveled, or needed something to do with my hands somewhere, or, dare I say it, simply couldn’t be without an instant escape in my back pocket.
A long, long time ago I started using other people’s words as a distraction. I read so much I don’t write. I listen to talk radio so I don’t hear the voice in my head. And I scroll to see what other people are up to instead of paying attention to what I’m doing.
Move along, there’s nothing new or revelatory here. I’m a mom in the twenty-first century with attention and anxiety issues. I struggle with admonitions to Be Present! Seize the Day! Practice Gratefulness! so I shrug my shoulders at such platitudes and click the home screen button.
My husband seems to enjoy the kids more than I do. He’s relaxed around them, brimming with pride and happiness. I often feel like I’m on the sidelines, looking in at their easy togetherness, clucking with worry and control.
I don’t need as many distractions as I have. No one does. There are real and true things in front of me, or that I want, minutes I want to touch. Minutes I’d love back, actually, but I’m not shooting for the moon.
A mom marks time by the pajamas her child used to swim in that are now too tight. The seasons that seem never ending are over before I’ve had time to send a proper thank you note.
But know that I’m thankful.