“If there is a Sirenhead society, I want to know what a baby Sirenhead looks like.”
This is the last line from an effusive array of mythos creation around a creature known to the internet (and now our children) as Sirenhead. Have you heard of this creature? I hadn’t. But now with all their wonderings and imaginings and non-stop “What if…”s, I feel like I just read an entire book with Sirenhead as the main character.
All while trying to research USDA farm grants. For the land we just spotted. On that self-same internet. That we’re telling ourselves we won’t get, but also admitting to one another that we’re excited.
And the wind blows on my neck and the dog barks across the fence and he hollers, “Hey! I just turned that music off because you’d left. Did you turn that back on and then leave again?” (No, Papa. We’re staying here to listen. / Oh, ok.)
There isn’t time to sit down and plan in silence. There isn’t space to lay out a notepad and pen, a laptop and mug, and a few extra detritus of working thoughts unless I want to pick up their comic and math, their lunch dishes and chapter book (! Yes! A chapter book! That’s being willingly read!) or the three tiny pumpkins I plopped in the center of the table from the garden yesterday.
Not that the center of the table is from the garden…or was only built yesterday. Word order never comes out of me the way it may best go in for you. I might try to rearrange sometimes. No promises.
But we plan around the chatter. We coordinate who calls the chaperone (*cough* realtor *cough*) and who emails the money person. We confirm where we each are and extra confirm the other is, too. (“Do this, yes? I’m a Yes, but it’s also your life, so I want to make sure you are also a Yes.” )
I make more coffee (“Quires mas cafe, Papa?” / “Si, mamacita, gracias.”) I realize I might need to break down the trauma-induced barriers I’ve erected around task management software from my past corporate life in order to keep this all on track. And then argue with myself that, “No way, I can totally keep on top of it with pen and paper, for the first time in my life. Really. Promise. Don’t reboot Asana…”
So. Don’t feel like you can’t Do the Thing because you Don’t Have the Time or Can’t Clear the Space. Do it anyway. Add to the noise. Add to the mess. As a coworker and I were talking about today - take up space. If you feel like you need permission, here it is: [Permission]