A Kind of Meditation

Moving slowly around the kitchen, buttering toast, filling cups of water. Flicking on the coffee machine. Quiet thoughts floating past my consciousness. Wiping faces, passing wooden spoons and saucepans to idle hands. Sweeping the floor, wiping the tiles on hands and knees because the mop broke. Feeding the dog, filling her bowl. Putting seeds out for the birds, pausing for a small moment in the sunshine. Taking off my shoes, walking barefoot on the boards. Picking flowers with the girls, placing jars with their arrangements around the house. Getting in the car, doing up the straps, pausing for a moment to breathe. Coming home again, unloading. Repeat, repeat, repeat throughout the day for various this and that; shops, school, kinder. Putting the kettle on, spooning tea into the pot. Standing for a moment to collect my thoughts. Moving again, pouring the tea, folding the clothes, reading a book to eager ears. Turning on the oven, chopping vegetables. Leaning over to pick things up off the floor, clearing space. Turning the oven off, serving up the food. Wiping faces, changing nappies, running a clear warm bath. Warming pyjamas by the heater, doing up buttons, encouraging little bodies into bed. Tucking in, giving kisses.

Re-boiling the kettle.

Sitting on the couch.

Barely moving.

Tired but content.

morning rising: fail

A few weeks ago I wrote about my intention to get up early, smell the roses, put a pot of coffee on the stove and have some time for me before the kidlets awake each day. For those of you thinking of me as dawn breaks, gently rising a foot here and an arm there in a delicate yoga pose, breathing in for four and out for four, gliding about my house in a serene manner and sipping a hot cup of coffee with a raised pinky while my children stir dreamily, I felt it was my responsibility to set you straight.

I got up early, yep: once.

I’m sorry to say it.

But I failed.

That one day that I did rise at 6am, the pixie was up and attached to me by 6.20. Birdie was hollering for her breakfast – NOW, at 6.40. Since that lovely day when I had a whole glorious 20 minutes to myself I have attempted a few times to rise early. But when Pixie began waking up a million times a night again (after I thought she had settled into a 1-2 times a night kinda thing) I temporarily put a halt on any dreams of this.

I hope you don’t think less of me. I must admit I still do find my time at night a lot more pleasurable because there is much less chance that one of them will wake up and I am likely to have a couple of hours to myself, if I please. In the mornings On that one morning, I did feel a bit stressed not knowing exactly how long I would have, and knowing that it wouldn’t be any more than one hour max.

So a halt to the plans for now, but I will try again… soon… yes…

Are you an early riser or a night owl?

out the escape hatch, pronto!

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Lots of tears around the house yesterday. Our little pixie is a bit worse for wear, I suspect. I have been under the weather with a cold, sore throat and cough which is finally coming to an end, slowly. For a little bub who spends so much time with her mama, she would need an immune system of steel not to have caught something from me. Breastfeeding an already fussy baby who now has a blocked nose does not make for the most joyous of activities.

Once her tears were settled and she was asleep in her bassinet (!! Asleep in the bassinet in the day? Why yes! For over 45 minutes!) it was the biggest’s turn for a wail. Prince Charming was wheeling her around the kitchen by the feet like a wheelbarrow so I suppose he was asking for it when her little nose crashed onto the tiles after a fit of laughing. I now know the meaning of the line my parents would so often say to us as children: that’s enough now, or this will surely end in tears. We would roll our eyes and moan about the unfairness, oh the injustice!… I now hear the same words rolling off my tongue – often.

Prince Charming has one week left of holidays and I am already wondering, after five weeks with him by my side, how I will ever cope without him again. How did I manage to shower? Eat? Survive? when he was at work? However from past experience I know, after a week or so we regain our natural rhythm and find our groove once again.

A tip, a reminder, a suggestion: fresh air fixes everything. 

In the afternoon our house warmed up, the mess was a mile high and we were all feeling feisty and fiery. We bundled into the car and within 15 minutes, with coffees in hand, we were on our way to the local adventure playground where we spent the remainder of the day. The biggest ran off all her worries, Pixie slept in my arms for most of the outing and Prince Charming and I took turns at swinging and skipping and pretending to be on a train and getting off again and jumping up and down steps and waiting at a bus-stop and sliding and finding friends and hiding and running and talking to a kangaroo and… trying not to get too exhausted by the imagination of a two year old.

For us, this time in January is a time of consolidation, grand plans, dreaming and regathering. We have good days and slow days. Yesterday was a slow day, but we revived ourselves in the afternoon and ended on a good note. Today is a new day!

What have you been doing this January?