I told him to get his shoes. He chose boots. On an 80-degree day.
It was a really good day.
Yesterday was just...too tight around around my neck or something. Not bad, just ill-fitting for the most part.
I still feel a little "rammy," as my husband would call it, like I'm waiting to arrive, but I lived my day. I was there. I didn't walk through the time and then think Was I even awake? Did I notice my son? It was pretty beautiful, actually.
I woke up, after too few hours of sleep (I really need to change this not-sleeping-enough thing soon), and in yoga-speak, I set my intention for the day: I'm going to go to bed early, but until then, I'M GOING TO LIVE THIS DAY.
There were no grand gestures. Just me and Nolan, for the most part. We took our time at home in the morning and mostly read books (he hadn't had enough sleep, either). We took a walk, watched the cars, played at the playground, and then sat on the porch eating frozen pineapple and watching more cars. We visited a sweet friend.
It was good.
I've been writing more, too. I actually published a post at The Social Eater for the first time in months. I'm not sure if the published thing is going to happen anytime soon, but I'm practicing. I starting wiggling my way back into it and eventually, maybe it'll be formal (or not), but either way, this little bit feels like me.
There are cells of insecurity that still live inside of me. They show up in moments and days. Sometimes I am able to shove them aside long enough to OWN what makes me me, with no apologies, and in enough comfort that I'm not defensive or abrasive. I'm practicing.