On love and air alone

We’ve started 2018 in a state of flux.

For this little family, a lot of things are up in the air, with jobs, home and childcare arrangements all in various stages of transition. I wish I was the sort of person who found these sort of conditions exciting, but I’m just not. It’s stressful. As someone who is so spectacularly uncoordinated that they can barely stay upright in stable conditions, finding a foothold when the ground feels like it’s shifting beneath your feet is pretty tricky.

Sometimes I see pithy quotes on Instagram that convince me for a few moments that uncertainty is liberating, but as soon as I’ve scrolled past, I find myself breathing into a paper bag again. I see the excitement in possibility, I really do, I promise (please don’t send me inspirational pictures of mountains okay please thanks). But, any excitement about the interesting things that could be on the horizon is tempered by a stronger desire to just know that I’ll be able to feed and clothe and shelter my family in perpetuity. Ugh! How dull, though! How suffocating and mundane the bottom tiers on the hierarchy of needs are. If only we could survive on love and air alone. Or lentils and broccoli, at least. Alas, my son prefers prosciutto, gorgonzola, fruits out of season and velvet pillowcases. We’ve created a monster.

Anyway, the {only} good thing about this sort of upheaval is that it makes us think about what we really want. When order is restored, what will that look like, ideally? Who will work what hours? How will we navigate the school situation next year? How can we come to an arrangement that balances all the competing needs in our household, for attention and time and job satisfaction and fulfilling emotional connections and creative pursuits and financial security and PJ Masks and gorgonzola?

How can we make sure everyone gets at least a decent chunk of what they truly want?

Is that even possible? And are PJ Masks children masquerading as superhero animals, or the other way around?