Sometimes things just work better when we let them be. Or perhaps things always work better when we let them be — when we stop trying to control the whole world and just allow stuff to take care of itself. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately since when you have a child there isn’t much you can control, and that control gets less and less as their little lives progress. Of course, for those of us who are control freaks, asking us to surrender even the illusion that we’re in control is like asking us to just stop digesting, or using our hands, or wearing clothes to church. But, sometimes, occasionally giving it up to the universe pays off in a really tangible way.
Yesterday, WTN’s wife (WTNW?) came to my front door — which has NEVER happened– and came into my house to tell me that even though they had planted some bushes in the Disputed Property Next to Our House, they wanted me to know that I could still do whatever I wanted to that land and that they didn’t want us to feel like we couldn’t use it just because they’d put in some plants in over there.
While this still implies that she believes that they own the space and that she is graciously letting us do what we want on our own land, I’m SO OK with it. The evening that I had my Coffee-Shop meltdown when I saw WTN planting, SU and I talked about what was going on with WTN, I realized that I really don’t care what they plant or do over there, I mean, they’re the ones who have to look at it more frequently. (It’s on a side of the house that we never visit, and only have 2 windows on) But, as I told him, I just wished they had talked to us about it.
In the interest of my own sanity, Spousal Unit and I decided that I should surrender my worry about it to the universe and the responsibility for dealing with it over to him. (He then rapidly proceeded to do nothing… but since I had agreed to turn it over to him, I had to keep my big damn trap shut.)
But, back to my good thing — apparently the universe heard me and sent WTNW over to chat. So, it was good that neither of us went over and got all postal on the neighbors. It all worked out like I wanted it to. Cool, huh?
Now, I need to give the Gadlet’s sleeping/eating habits up to the universe. Last night the longest stretch between feedings I got was 2 hours. Usually it was 1.5. I think that waking a prisoner up every 1.5 is prohibited by the Geneva Convention. Apparently, I’ve got a little Bushie on my hands who thinks the Geneva Convention doesn’t apply to her. Add to this, despite 2 nights running of sleeping in her own co-sleeper next to the bed, last night she was having none of it and so grunted and wiggled her way through the night sleeping in my armpit. This did not make for good sleep in the 1.5 hours I did manage to get before feedings. This morning, I’m drained. Literaly and figuratively. I told the Gadlet at the 7:00 a.m. feeding that I was just about ready sell her to the gypsies. But apparently her father (who totally slept through this whole drama, dammit) seems to like her and wants to keep her, so she’s safe for now.