dirt, joy, and poetry
and a puppy too
It’s been a Lent-y sort of week. You know, one of those when you think you’re maybe okay, and then plans are upended in a way that is not bad per se, but exposes all your tendencies to grab for control? Like say, feeling somewhat competent postpartum, and then adding a puppy1. It could be — though this is speculation — that rather than allowing said event to be an opportunity to let go of the reins, you’re just low level (or let’s be honest, mid to high level) annoyed and frustrated all week long. Again, just speculating.
I don’t know the solution. I’m currently wrestling through what it looks like to not squash joy by trying to control it. It’s just that the joy is so chaotic and unpredictable and pees on the floor a lot2.
I’ve wrestled with similar conflicts throughout the last few years: learning that just because its hard doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong, wondering how to enjoy fleeting moments of motherhood when they’re also so difficult, and lately, wondering how to not let the …