Patience

The other day my sonshine turned 11 months and it seems unfathomable to me that it was a year ago, almost, since the day I pushed him out of my swollen belly. This brings tears, as you can imagine. And the last few months especially, as I diligently declutter and purge and cleanse, box, pack, donate and pare down this house and its contents, he has shown infinite patience with me because he certainly hasn't had all the time and attention he deserves while I've been trying to single-handedly get our farmhouse up on the market.

11 months old. Wowza.

Not entirely single-handedly, I might add. I am thankful to lovely family members and friends, friends I've known a long time and friends I am just beginning to know, for helping me in my hour(s) of need by watching my sonshine, taking him for parts of a day, or coming to spend time with him while I work on another room (Janis, you goddess, you!) or taking him for an ENTIRE day for the first time as a sweet friend of mine, Tricia, over at The Orchard, did. All these favours allowed me to accomplish bigger chunks!

Through all this passing around to all these surrogate mommies while his own mama was busy, my sonbeam has shone so brightly and exhibited buddist-like patience, being the little zen master he is.

My mother always said, "Patience is a virtue." And she's right. But, man. Somedays, it's dang hard! I feel nervous, turn sad about leaving, get anxious about where we're going; where we'll end up. And then I roll my eyes. I roll out my yoga mat. I take a deep breath, I stop packing and cleaning and sit and pour myself a cup of tea. I gather this patience my mother spoke of into my body. I count to three. I sigh and laugh at the ridiculousness of stress and what it can do to a person. Because I gaze at my son giggling at me from the corner of his playpen while I've been too busy to pick him up and then I know this stress, all this anxiety is not worth the worry. So I open myself up to trust. I'm not a religious girl at all, but in this I have faith: everything will fall into place. My farmhouse will sell and we will find ourselves a new bower to burrow into; a haven and a place to call home. It's all good. It's all good.

Finishing touches...

My farmhouse should have the sign hammered into the lawn by Thursday, April 29, 2010 (if not sooner) and, once that happens, I'll have a bit more time on my hands to share what's been happening the last while, what's happening now and what I hope will happen down the road as he and I continue on our mad adventure together, with much more fun to come into my wee li'l laddie's second year!
Music: The Waiting, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers