I open the door to Jacks nap room, he’s not crying anymore, he’s laying in childspose. At first I think he’s gone back to sleep, but then his rosy red cheek, right eye, and smiling mouth with blue blue hanging out appears to me. 

“Ahhhh Jack you’re so cute”

I pick him up, then take him to change his diaper. The usual resistance occurs and I explain,

“Jack, there’s some things in life you won’t want to do or understand the need yet, but they just simply need to be done. Changing your diaper is one of those things”

He calms down as if he understands what I’m saying. I hear Fiona now, so I put Jack in the living room.

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to get Fiona”

I expect crying or whining or a plea for  bubble guppies. Instead he starts playing with a toy truck. Fiona is smiling when I get her out of her play and pack too. I take her to the couch and read “The Little Blue Truck” and “Brown Bear Brown Bear”. Both babies are happy and I’m feeling relaxed and fully present. I’m not stressed about my studio or the work I want to do in there. I am totally engrossed in being a mom and loving it. It’s as if writing about my fear of not being fully present has enabled me to be fully present, maybe the extra conciousness about it? I don’t know but I’m glad. I hate the feeling of hanging half way between two places, two desires, two uncombinable moments. 

Later, after I had fed the family dinner, and Alan is home spending time with the babies in the living room so I can clean the kitchen, I think about my journal project. I realize I was too attached to the words on the paper, to the stories they tell. It is time to let go, I need to manipulate the pages, stain them, tear them all out of my journal. I will allow myself to read each entry one last time. Then they will enter my pile of rejects, of discarded pieces, past moments, to be reassembled in the present time with a freshness, not weighed down by the past. Using the past energies and traumas to fuel the way for forward motion.