This morning I got to blow dry my hair. I put on a cardigan instead of a hoodie. It's been nice. I'm sipping a coconut La Croix. I think I like the smell more than the flavor, but it makes me feel special. I already had plenty of coffee this morning at a DoTerra Essential Oils class. I'm a Young Living person, currently, because my mom was nice enough to get me started with them. I think both brands have good oils, but I really do care about the brand. If I pursue oils, I'm going to look into the brands more. Let me just say, I don't support cults... So. We shall see. Other brands exist besides those two. Perhaps I will look into a less mainstream brand.

My friend Lisa gave me a bumbo seat and a huge stack of Mothering magazines. She is so sweet. Tyler and I were talking about being meek, because that's what Sunday's sermon touched on. I have a weird understanding of the word meek, because in the dictionary it's basically "weak, mouse-like." I told Tyler that all of the "meek" people I had known were un-relatable, had it all together, gave me a bible verse for all of my problems. We agreed that my understanding was wrong. Meek doesn't mean I can't have an opinion or that I'm not allowed to question anything. One of the synonyms for meek is "tame," and I kind of like that. Women who spew their opinions and make things out to be wars that are not wars tend to bother me. But women who hide bother me too... I want to say, "Fight for yourself!" Whatever that looks like. I find myself in both of those extremes - it's hard to hang in the middle. All that to say, my friend Lisa is meek. The true meek. She just lives out her beliefs, doesn't throw them at you, is supportive, honest. I don't even know how she got to me. I think I just noticed her, wearing her baby, quietly feeding him in church, and then I sought her out - "Please, tell me how you do things!" Maybe I'll be meek someday. 

I had a bury-myself type of Monday. I wanted to hide, sit and meditate on all of my mistakes. Ugh, it's toxic. You have to be full of love to be my friend. You have to be patient. You have to filter my sentences through a cheese cloth made of grace and just smile at me. "Poor child. She has a lot to learn." You can say that after I walk away. I don't mind. I wrote a blog post, but it was too icky to actually post it. Good to get the words out though. 

I always used to want a pet monkey. Having a baby is cooler, and chances are you won't get your face ripped off. I love Leon's warm, fat skin. His drool, his dimples. The toe jam that magially appears every five minutes. The way he looks at me like, "What are you?! I love you!" Babies are miracles. Giving birth to one is a miracle. A terrifying miracle. I'm thankful to have muscles again and to be able to sit on a toilet and walk around my house. To wear shirts. About a year ago is when speculated that I was pregnant. I don't miss dry-heaving, and I'm okay with just having gas bubbles right now instead of having a tiny fist jam into my cervix. I'm thankful for my life right now. At times I feel like I have no purpose, and then I remember the fat, warm lump napping on my bed. Yesterday I texted Tyler and said, "The only thing good about today is Leon, and that's ok." But I mean, this morning I went to an oils class, drank Keurig coffee, talked to my mom on the phone, laid my baby down, ate a cabbage roll that I made last night. And here I sit. I live a charmed life. I won't deny it. I have guilt over it, and then that sense of worthlessness comes in. 

So, I will go finish washing my cloth diapers and consider making dinner. Recycle the mail. Do a load of dishes. I did do a bit of yoga this morning in the living room and that was nice. I tried to read the psalms, but I felt like I was reading about a man I couldn't relate to. If I have enemies, I don't know who they are, and my bones feel fine. I love God, but I don't feel close to Him right now. I do on Sundays while we sing, but that's it. He feels like one of those distant relatives that you percieve only cares about you because you're related, so at Christmas when there are 47 people around, you don't bother even saying hi. I have felt like this maybe forever. Off and on. 

It sounds dramatic, but neutrality is my tone right now. Anyway...

I'll end with a funny story. At the class this morning, Leon was a little (a very little) fussy, because he was tired but too distracted by talking to sleep. So an odd woman who had been knitting and talking over the presenter asked if she could hold him. She probably saw my 1.5 seconds of reluctance, but I smiled and said sure. So shes bouncing him and he was fine. Duh. I know how to make my kid stop fussing, but he was hardly making a few noises and I didn't feel like standing up the whole time. Anyway, she says, loudly, "See! Babies like to stand up and be bounced!" and then she asked if he was my first baby. Oddly, I felt calm towards her. She enjoyed him for about five minutes until she started sweating then handed him back. She also kept saying "DO YOU HAVE MOUNTAINS ON YOUR SHIRT?!" when, in fact, he had wales on his shirt. Oh well.