The Manic Season

It is officially April.  I know this because there is suddenly not enough time in the day, and I'm starting to drop some of the balls I've been juggling through the winter months (i.e I haven't written anything here for over a week!)  I was down at the farm this past week, with my 4 year old in tow, to help with the spring cleaning / baby fiesta that is the first week of April.  I arrived on Monday night as a litter of bunnies were being born.  By the time I left on Saturday morning there were 6 new lambs and 6 new goat kids.  It was like all the mamma's on the farm were looking down at the parking area, and when they saw me drive in they all started to push!  I'm grateful for the chance to be there to witness that time again, it is one of the many things about the farm that I really love- the electric anticipation in the air, the surprises, and of course, those sweet sweet baby faces.
In between births, I raked like a madwoman, dragged junk to the dumpster, cleared out a jungle from inside our greenhouse, shoveled disgusting heavy wet unmentionable farm slime from a pen of misplaced water birds who were longing for their under-construction pond, helped clear the foundations for a new greenhouse, made an outdoor nest for our sow so she will relocate for the spring to a more visible lounge, removed winterizing plastic from windows and doors.... oh the list goes on.  It was hard work, and because I have a herniated disc in my lower back, it required some intermissions so I could lay on ice, but the soreness and exhaustion at the end of the day was blissful.  Looking at the improvements as the week went on felt so satisfying.

I left my 10 year old home with dad for this trip, as he had school and commitments.  I made a big pot of chicken soup before I left (one of his favorite things), and tried not to let his big sad eyes penetrate my heart completely as he repeated for the upteenth time that he wished he could come with us.  The truth was, I wished it too.  I know how much he also loves the farm, and how heartbreaking is it for him when I travel south without him.   We are so alike in our emotions, that it is really hard for me to hold my ground when I know exactly how he's feeling, and want nothing more than to give in to his wishes.  It's also hard because when I look at how unrealistic it is for him to trot down to NY all the time, leaving his school and activities behind, it also makes me fear that it is a bit unrealistic for me.  I worry that I am spreading myself too thin (which is a personality disorder I struggle with constantly), and that in holding on to the farm, I am not giving enough to this new life that here in Portsmouth.  Guilt and angst for leaving, and guilt and angst when I go back-- I can't win.  So, here I sit, tired and overwhelmed, trying to catch up on bills and laundry and gardens and life before I leave again on Friday to go back to the farm and teach the spring break program, but I'm also energized and excited to get back to work.

What is most interesting to me, is that this feeling is not unlike how I felt before I left New Mexico. As a classroom teacher I would drop my then 2 year old at daycare in the morning and pick him up 8 hours later.  Wishing to be in two places at once, and regretting everything that seemed to fall short.  Back then, I would wish for more hours in the day because by the time we got home and had dinner it was bath and bed and there was never enough time to play.  When I think about that, I feel like this strange dual life is not so bad.  When I'm home, I can play, and when I'm gone... the laundry is very patient.