Moments of Calm

Almost 9am, A is downstairs in her preschool room, I’m sitting here in the computer room at the community center. A humming noise comes from the six or so Pentium 2 computers around me and like conversation pieces, they draw attention, but don’t really do anything. A friend told me that what I’ve set up here for the kids looks great. Unfortunately, only 10% of it is actually functioning. I’ll keep this in mind for next time (note to self: when designing a computer-based program for adolescents, be sure to get computers that work). But that’s not really the point.

Time seems to stop here. There’s the white noise of the air conditioning, the faint shish, shish shish of a custodian sweeping outside my closed door, and the clicking of the computer keys. I’m reminded of (1) how seldom the moments are when things are relatively right with the world and we can be alone with our thoughts—when concerns about finances, food, our children, etc. seem so far away, if only for a while and (2) how much of a blessing it is to have any of these kinds of moments. Why is it that I continually alternate between these kind of dreamy, romantic posts and posts that convey my utter and complete hysteria at the chaos of my life? Absolutely disgusting, really. Oh well. In any case it is helpful, I’ve found, to try to discern what creates calm moments like this. I think it comes down to good decisions. Getting up at 6am instead of sleeping in till 7. Actually having time to shower. Leaving the kitchen almost clean and vacuuming the living room before we go. Giving A time to get ready with out literally pushing her from bed, to bathroom, to booster chair, to car seat. Making pancakes, as requested by A, and having some myself. Sometimes I’m rushing so much I think if I had the option of feeding A a smoothie intravenously in the car I would. Sippy cups are not too far from this, I fear. Other good decisions: emailing S.O. to tell him about my day before I left the house. Consciously trying to relax on the way in to the daycare. Remembering to bring A’s green things (a cucumber and a Granny Smith apple) for her preschool homework. These good decisions led to a certain amount of togetherness that makes sitting here and having a moment of calm, possible.

Of course, the fact that I was driving like a madwoman to get A to preschool on time, had to swerve wildly to avoid a truck merging unexpectedly into my lane (he probably wasn't expecting me to come zooming up beside him)…just water under the bridge, that if we think too deeply about would destroy this fragile peace that currently exists.

It occurs to me that most of my moments of calm involve some kind of distant noise (computers humming, wind through trees, water) and writing. What are your moments of calm like?