Life has become a constant movement but with a potty training toddler and a baby it’s a slow constant. This struck me as I was trying to fold up my double jogger and get it in the trunk after a run. I’m always moving but I don’t seem to be moving quickly. It takes time to get four kids up and out the door to wait for a toddler to “I do it!”.
So this is perpetual motion is constant little movements that never end, like laundry. You walk from one room to the next pick up this, move that, put this away, not remembering the first thing you set out to do so you keep moving in endless breathless circles never completing a task fully before moving on to the next one.
It’s breaking my type A mind.
I want to sit for hours straight and finish. One. Stinking. Thing.
Just one. Start to finish in one sitting.
But I move, to the most pressing need at that exact moment or the thing that pops into my mind that I cannot forget and I move and go and do and
and suddenly it’s late.
Time has passed and little hands reach out and want nothing more but to land on my cheek and stay there for the night and as my body lays to rest along side of him, creaking and groaning, the mind picks up and the whirly gig of perpetual motion is found, inside my head, spinning all night until my body takes over, albeit slower again in the morning.