Wayyyy Too Much Stuff in the Way

Coffee. Pacing. More coffee. Then more pacing. Repeat. Again and again. Should probably throw all of the coffee beans into the garbage right now to end this stupid, vicious cycle.

And no joke. Literally pacing around the apartment in my pink, fuzzy bathrobe because I don't even know where to begin at this point.

My calendar is the enemy right now. The other day on the phone, my mom casually said to me, "Can't believe March is around the corner!" in her normal, cheerful tone at which point, I almost went into cardiac arrest.

"What?!" I screeched. "That means I've only got a little over a month to get everything together!"

And now here I am, less than five weeks from my departure date, staring at a full page of tasks I need to complete in the meantime. Although my OCD self is tempted to type them all out for you to see (mostly because writing out lists makes me feel oddly productive even if I don't actually complete any of the tasks on them), I promise I won't put you through this.

As you know, I've been struggling to stay in the present, to really make the most of what I am experiencing at any given moment. However, this has become even more difficult while I plan for a nine month gig abroad.

But as I am consistently learning, it's the little things that often go a long way. Yesterday, I was taking care of Ethan and as I was sifting through his toy box, I found a stethoscope from his doctor's kit. I watched his eyes widen as I pressed the foam pad to his chest and said, "Ba-boom, ba-boom!"

Then he took it from me and said, "Now, I'm going to listen to your heart, Rachael!"

He got himself adjusted, placed the little pad on my chest, and frowned. "I don't hear anything."

"Oh no!" I said, laughing. "That's no good!"

"I can't hear anything," he repeated, this time with a scowl on his face,"because there's too much stuff in the way."

And as he dropped the stethoscope and went onto the next activity, I thought, You ain't kidding, kid. Wayyy too much stuff in the way. And clearly, it's stuff that doesn't matter too much in the grand scheme of things. And who needs any more barriers to their hearts, anyway?

I certainly don't. Once again, I must thank two-year-old Ethan for getting me back to basics. Even thinking about it this morning helps. The coffee cup has now been drained and I am sitting down. That's a pretty good sign, I think.