And then my little girl rolls over, voice thick with sleep, eyes half mast, and says to me, “time to wake up, mama! It’s Sunday!” which is her way of mimicking me, my sing-song wake-up “time to wake up, baby! It’s a sunny day!” when her nap stretches too far into the afternoon.
The virtual drama seems so far away now, this morning filled with steaming mugs of tea (I’m leaning to drink it without cream, like a savage), a purring blue kitten snuggled up on the couch and Jack rolling around on the floor about to crawl; my baby girl snuggles in my lap with her new pillow. (“I like my new pillow mama!”, she tells me every single morning. “Thank you for making my new pillow!”)
It used to be the case that my virtual life permitted some escape from the stress of my tangible one. Lately the opposite has been true. Is it possible to find balance between the two?
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