I’m up north with my mom and the girls, and the change of scene helps, though getting ready to leave the house yesterday felt like flying to hell in a very tiny hand basket. I cursed up a storm as I struggled–for forty five minutes–to fold Zoe’s co-sleeper into its carrier bag. Meanwhile, Zoe, who has become increasingly gassy and fussy screamed and Stella asked over and over again how long it would be before Grammy arrived. To say I was crabby would be a serious understatement. But when my mom arrived and we had rearranged the car seats for the fourth time, I could do nothing but laugh. Yes, I feel crazy. Yes, it’s hard to do anything but juggle my two darlings. But there is nothing I can do about it, so I may as well laugh. (This philosophy won’t always work for me, I know, but I’ll try to remember that it does help to spontaneously burst into laughter, even if it’s a little maniacal.

Once we were in the car and Zoe had stopped crying, I fell fast asleep. (That also helps.)

When we got to the cabin, it was 57 degrees! Stella and I walked down to the lake and threw rocks onto the melting ice, then walked down the road, collecting “sparkly rocks,” which are, claro que si, Stella’s favorite kind. The sky was the kind of blue you can imagine stepping into. I took deep breaths, filling my lungs with the scent of pine and dirt and melting snow, and I could almost feel the freckles blooming on my cheeks.

Zoe cried and cried last night (her new fussy time) and was awake much of the night, and this is hard on me, of course, but if I can have an hour every day to be outside, soaking up the sun and breathing fresh air, those tough hours are bearable, at least for now.