We'll hello 3 am. We meet again. In fact, you're and I have become more intimately acquainted than I had ever imagined. Since the September decision accept a job transfer for Kenneth which require us to relocate our family, 3 am has been privy to more thoughts, feelings and memories than I share with my sister friends in any given three-month period.
Today 3 am reminded me that I still haven't paid the piano teacher, followed by a true to life re- enactment of the hours following the birth of my youngest child.... When I fainted in the bathroom and, after a good snooze, ate every last bite of the celebratory steak dinner courtesy of the hospital cafeteria, even though it was stone cold by the time I got to it. And because that was not nearly enough to sustain me at the time I immediately devoured a Costco sized gift bag of deluxe holiday M&Ms. Thanks, 3 am. I almost forgot about those M&Ms.
I've been plagued by the expanse of worry only a mother knows when 3 am reminds me of the major changes my children are facing. In particular, the depth of my uncertainty about my sweet son, with bursts of hope that I will be led to resources and ideas that will make his life more manageable.
Thoughts of home renovation for our new-to-us 1970s brick rancher by the mountains swirl through my head at 3am. Thanks to my handy Houzz app I've dreamed up dozens of kitchens I love, how will I ever decide!? Well, at 3 am there is plenty of time to think about it. The possibilities are endless.
3 am took me back to my first experience with Motherhood, when my chubby brown eyed baby Eden learned to walk in that farm house out in the country that was a big mistake to buy, and then It whisked me over to the family snuggle on the first morning we were together after Ivy came home from Ethiopia.
I don't know why, but the other day 3 am was insistent that I take our kids down to Rossures to say goodbye to our favorite grocery bagger. Which, crap. I didn't do. I wonder if he is working this weekend because we pull out on Monday morning and we will miss him.
3 am makes me mentally comb through the contents of our house house (which are now packed into big brown boxes waiting to be shipped) wondering where in the world those last few library books could have gone. I would hate to leave with bad library karma, so at 3 am I make a mental note to go down there and settle up.
The gratitude I feel for the Colfax chapter of my life embraces me at 3 am like the cozy blankets I am wrapped in. It brings me to tears which may be mistaken for tears of grief, but are actually the tears of true love.