Be exactly where you are

We have spent the week/weekend being ill, and various snapshots of a very slowed-down life have been flitting through my brain as they happen. I want to take note of the weight of an 8-almost-9 year old head on my shoulder. I want to remember the 6 year old heart beating under my hand. I want to freeze-frame the three of us napping in a tangled L on the couch. 

 As a family, we are ill pretty rarely, so the sense of familiarity wasn't from a repeat-performance of buckets and ginger-ale per se. It was a throw-back to life under covid lockdowns with an infant and toddler; just the three of us and an extremely modest list of chores and activities to keep us occupied.

 On Friday we spent the day on the couch, mostly. I left a few times to get needed supplies or complete a simple task, but it wasn't long till I was called back with a 'mom!' for a snuggle. 

 I often feel like there are too many things to do in a day; throw in a load of laundry at 5:30am before my 6am workout before making lunches at 7 before showering at 7:30 before drop-off at 8 before teaching at 9 and on and on. 

And so. A slow weekend on the couch where my body and my heartbeat are the best medicine for my children felt kind of nice, in a strange way. 

I often felt trapped during covid, especially at the beginning. But I take the lessons of 'be here' forward with me. I hope I never forget.

Seeing your kids not feel well, while you also don't feel well, is not fun. But snuggling between them, one in each arm - I want to stop and notice that feeling. I want to hold it. I want to record it with these words and the feeling of their bodies on mine. 

Everyone is starting to feel better, and the routine of playdates and plans and adventures will resume. Tomorrow I will get up at 5:30 and do laundry and work out and make (small) lunches for healing bellies. 

 And I will carry the body-memory of my children in my arms, skin-to-skin contact being the medicine that helps the most, even now.