Archive for the 'Day-to-day' Category

Lawns

I feel a bit sweaty. The lawn is wide and well mown but dry. There isn’t a soul about. The sky is high and blue and sort of hopeful. But it doesn’t feel like autumn and I’m not dressed as though it is Autumn but I’m still a bit sticky, sweaty.

These days seem to stretch wide. And they are dry like the lawn I crossed before I opened the door. The door with a crooked open sign. The door that made me think, I’m not sure that I would want to spill my guts here. Maybe it doesn’t matter when you’re down and dry like the lawn you have to cross to open this door with its crooked sign.

These days see the sky high and blue and hopeful. To me they are just days but they are here nonetheless and I am grateful. I am managing to meander my way through with little direction, little focus. The focus seems just to be in the day; to watch myself move slowly and slightly aimlessly through them.

tough

copyright tw collins

 

It’s getting a bit tough round here.

I’m looking for beautiful things.

To look at.

To make me feel a bit better.

And a bit less tired.

The boys are pushing every button we have.

And we seem to avoid looking at each other.

I feel flat when we try to negotiate the way

together.

And he just feels angry.

The heat, oppressive

and silent,

doesn’t help at all.

Yesterday, I mentioned that the baby turns 6 months today and how far that still seems from when he is one when, hopefully, things will be easier with him.

C said, ‘that’s the difference between you and me. I just thing how great it is we’ve made it to 6 months.’

Ah, the glass. Exactly, how half full is it?

a virtue

Is patience.

At least, it is

for me.

I realised yesterday,

after a tough,

tough, day,

that I need to learn

patience in a

BIG way.

My lack

thereof

makes my life

so much

harder

and, of course,

it’s pretty horrible

for those

around me.

My teeth are sore

from being ground

yesterday.

I assume from

stress.

Every unwelcome

noise,

spillage,

fall,

breakage,

bump,

drove me

insane.

So, without going

on and on

about how

my lack of

patience

kills

our rhythm,

what can I do about it?

I’m not sure

yet

but, hell, I’m

willing to

find out.

This stuff is hard man.

So many days

I just

feel

I wasn’t

made for

this parenting

stuff.

Really.

fatigue

I am continually

blown away

by the effects of fatigue.

It is like a drug which

absolves

actions, behaviours, and

thoughts.

I enter each day

with the best intentions

but

if my night has been

chaotic

full of waking moments

full of feeding

full of that whinging cry

full of wet beds

full of nightmares

full of heat

or

full of cold snaps

I wake the next morning

awfully

regretful

that I have

to start the day.

My tone of voice is

sharp and shrill.

I snap or

I am silent and each time

I forgive myself

because

I’m tired.

But it’s not fair and

it’s not enough.

And little people can’t achieve

that level of empathy

yet.

How are they

to understand?

That mummy

is

damn

tired and

therefore

not

expected

to be

nice.

I have spent

5 years now

tired.

It’s nothing new

so I shouldn’t act

each time

with such

entitlement.

This is

life

right now.

the day the car hit the wall

My fingers are slowly slipping

And it won’t take much for me to fall.

Apart.

I don’t take care.

I make too many mistakes

I won’t be what I was

I don’t concentrate.

I self-flagellate.

I cry.

I complain.

I tick over the days.

I hate not having much money.

I hate the slippery fall into debt.

I could work.

I hate that I can’t relax.

I forget to breathe.

I forget breathing is all there is.

It’s all I know.

I hate that I don’t want to be here right now.

I hate this weather, there’s no relief.

I hate that I can’t play with my 2 year old

I hate that I feel so bored, so numb.

I hate that I can’t just have moments.

I hate that I know I can change things but I don’t.

I am agitated, anxious.

I am grinding my jaw and tensing my shoulders.

 

But,

I can express gratitude.

I am grateful today that

I didn’t hit anyone when I was driving

There is a breeze through the house

That my baby woke once

For coffee.

That C was with a client when I rang him with the news

That I will survive; we will.

That

We have food in the house

I can cry if I want to

It’s just money – even if we have only a little.

That

Even gardenias with their amazing perfume, still have soiled petals.

That

The glass is still

Relentlessly

Half full.

 

I’ll do things my way

copyright sixtostart.com


So I thought I might go for a 2 word year.

Less, and

Play.

Kind of like the yin and the yang.

A gentle equilibrium.

It felt safer doing it that way

but

do you know?

Since choosing,

Less

Has definitely been more than

Play.

Funny that.

I think far more about

trying to achieve

less

in my life, than

trying to achieve

more play.

Who’d have thought?

We have less at the moment,

less money,

less time,

less patience.

So I’m working towards

less stress

less spent

less planned activity

to try and give

each one of us

a bit

more.

I’m back

I’m not sure the protocol in these situations.
Am I meant to start a new blog.
My purpose is gratitude.
Which fits too neatly with half full glasses.
I’m sticking around until
I think of somewhere better,
if I think of somewhere better,
to house my thoughts.

These days we are quiet.
There are now five where there were four.
We’ve added another little boy.
Four and a half months and every day more.

The reason these days are quiet,
is because 2 little boys leave
the house early in the morning
3 days a week.
These days are my solace, my substenance
my necessity.

So gratitude seems to me
one very real way
of making sure I live
squarely in every moment.
Looking for the things about which
I should give thanks.
Maybe looking will help me
be.