(Written over a week ago, but interrupted before posted.)
The living room is littered with books, a Hello Kitty rolling suitcase, wooden food items, a squeaky steak dog toy, lavender toddler sandals, a few magazines (Bust and The New Yorker), and a Fisher Price camper from the 1970s with occupants (my play things saved by my mother and passed on to my daughter). No matter how much we clean and organize, the status quo is mess.
The baby (who is now 2 years old) is napping. It is Sunday. The work week starts again tomorrow and includes a dreaded business trip to Indiana. We are approaching another new year celebration, and I barely wrote since the last one. Quick, reflect on the year past: Was I kangaroo-like in my grounded-ness and leaping? And before I even have time to answer that, what animal shall I strive to emulate this next year? No, but first, reflection.
I was grounded in the sense that I felt surrounded by my daily life. I let go of the stresses of work whenever possible to be with my daughter. I talked to my mother almost every day, as we each separately moved through the first year after my father's death. J and I slowly expanded our circle of friends here. I struggled to stay in touch with my friends from New York and elsewhere, battling my growing phone phobia. As a partially remote employee, as well as a long-distance daughter, I spend more time on the phone than I would like. I have gone from an eager phone conversationalist to a reluctant one.
Did I leap enough? I tried to follow the leaps of O's development, and K's own teenage leaps and bounds. I'm not sure I was always successful. I think it was less a year of sudden, notable leaps, and more a year of daily, constant leaping.
I still think the kangaroo has a lot to offer as a model. Maybe I'll keep it for the decade.
