Time Warp, Again

Even with Joe and his family here to anchor my routine, I still find myself losing track of the days. It's not surprising when I really think about it - there's no real need to know precisely which weekday it is. There are no appointments to keep, no meetings to phone into.  It doesn't matter if I have to stop and think to remember what day it is - my calendar for next week is completely blank.

I've managed to establish some rhythm to my days; it helps me to keep on an even(er) keel. Weekday mornings, I get up and watch the baby. His presence here each day is one of the silver linings of this stay-at-home business.

His needs are simple, his eyes are bright as he watches and learns about this world. Last week, he figured out how to sit up on his own. In just a few days, he went from downright wobbly and needing a constant eye to make sure he didn't topple into something, to sitting (mostly) securely as he delights in his newfound ability to pick up rattles and toys.

I find myself futilely trying to hold on to the moments when he falls asleep in my arms while drinking one of his six daily meals, experience tells me they will be gone in a blink. Already he is learning to hold his own bottle; is eating more solid foods. His first teeth should erupt most any day - before I know it, he'll be able to chew, and I'll be watching him chasing peas around the tray of his high chair; he'll no longer be willing to lie back and snuggle in.

Afternoons, since I've finished up clearing that lower patio at their new place, I've been reclaiming the steep hill behind and beside the house. It has a lot of invasive honeysuckle bushes and prickly things that need cutting down, and a LOT of pieces of broken glass that need picking up. (I know I won't be able to find all of the shards, but I figure every one I throw into my bucket is one that won't cut young Joe's tender hands when he begins to explore the hill, as surely he will in just a few years.)

The task greatly resembles real work. It's hot, even on these relatively cool days, as I cut and saw and drag the 10-15' branches to the brush pile. I stop often to stoop over to retrieve yet another piece of glass as I spot it glinting in the sunlight through the ground cover, adding it to my bucket of pokey things. It's turned out to be a great calf, ankle, and upper body workout. Most nights, the exercise works its magic, and I sleep soundly despite the undercurrent of anxiety prevalent in the world.

This isn't how I'd planned to spend these fleeting spring days, but I'm good with that. Soon enough, the new house will be habitable, and Joe and his family will be moved on in. (Not) soon enough, this round of quarantine will be over, and the baby will go back to day care. Soon enough, I'll have to (get to?) begin again to learn how I want to spend my days when the only tugs on my time are the ones I put there myself.

Soon enough.