Between the usual work of taking care of kids and cooking and cleaning and dealing with Kid A, who has been exasperating as of late, I somehow muster up the energy and courage to pull myself out of bed during those fleeting minutes after sunrise. Yes, both boys are early risers, usually waking each other up if one is still sleeping.
I keep hearing a Samuel Beckett quote over and over in my head lately--"I can't go on, I'll go on" (Side note: Chris is in a Beckett-obsessed phase, so I think the darkness of this playwright has transmigrated into my mood as a result). I mean, really, when you're caregiver to a child, what choice do you have but to go on, even if you can't? It's a contradictory statement yet somehow it's absolutely true.
I really shouldn't even be sitting here typing, as Kid A watches some dumb show and Kid B naps. There are dishes (oh, the endless dishes) to be washed, teeth to be brushed, contact lenses to put in. But sometimes I need as much of a moment to pursue creative or venting activities as I do to breathe or eat. And now I'm here. And gone.