The span of my arms

It is 3.30. Not the good 3.30, the bad one. The sitting in the cold dark in front of a glowing screen with a head full of leaking ideas instead of being tucked up in my bed kind of 3.30. My thoughts are bouncing out like imaginary corkscrews, whirling away in a firework display of popping energy and although I am craving a mental corner of solitude to curl up and sleep in, there doesn't appear to be one. The baby has just come down with a poor girl, it is not a good time to feel unwell and I simply cannot just sit with her like she needs me to, she crawls around after me, and each time I pause, she tries to climb up my leg. All night she has erupted in loud cries, as she falls asleep and then can't breathe through her blocked nose - bad timing.
So, where am I at? Well. The floor of my headspace is a tangled mess of stuff. A plethora of lists, jobs and activities scattered and wound through a sea of crumpled emotions that are sharp underfoot. I am focused one moment, vague the next. Motivated for a while, then heavy limbed. Matter of fact about everything and then over reactive and unable to stop the tears.
I am intrigued by the fact that my mental capacity has to absorb both the realities of essential jobs and silly ones. It is like a colourful mosaic. Each tiny block nestled and and jostling for position in my brain is at odds with the piece next to it. Really Important information and tasks jut up against would-be-nice-to-dos and the lack of simple thought-hierarchy transfixes me. I put it like this on my facebook status - contemplating matters supremely disproportional in priority. Making cake and slice for Greg to take to his farewell and gingerbread men for the girls to take to their last day at school (60 of them...) used up as much planning and hands-on time as packing and sorting our lives into a compact enough state to move. I am tying up loose ends when I can and get a good feeling each time I close an account or move information to a new address (not that we have one...) and everything else that doesn't make it to the satisfaction to being a tied up loose end, falls into the heap of Stuff. There has not been the space to plan for our future, what we will DO, where we will GO, how we will survive the stormy transition of next week. I am living as far as the end of my nose, and the span of my arms.
There have been farewells and goodbyes all round - they are the bite of leaving and pile on top of each other in layers. The two big girls are doing a good job of being brave. Maddy is bleak and scared - she experienced an intense sobbing episode after the last day at church and it all came out - her outrage and sadness and the it's just not fair kind of sorrow and the tears spilled and her little chest heaved and her hands wrung as she processed the beginning of parting from a happy little life. Kenzie took a little longer to crack, but a few hours later she rested her blonde head on my chest and suddenly began to weep brokenly and loudly. Such a grieving these two are doing and despite both attempting to be philosophical, the sadness is acute and there are times all four of us have to breathe through it. I am bewildered still at the why myself. I have this surreal feeling, like it can't be true and then I feel my wet cheeks and I know it is, and try to find some arsenal in my coping mechanism to handle this appropriately but can't. I am in over my head and feel in dark completely. But I have peace as well, in this painful place there is a sense that despite the pull, we will not be deformed but transformed. I understand I do not have to live out tomorrow - just today is enough for now. And can I exalt despite the chaos and uproar? Yes, I can choose to, and the knowledge that I am never alone is here with me.

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