Growing Versions

  In the early years of parenting, I was almost overcome by the potential of there now being  24 hours in a day , instead of the pre-parenting 12.  There always were 24 hours, but now, due to unpredictable sleep schedules, work demands and a need to be alone once in a while, almost all of these 24 hours were now known to me.It was like double the chance to do stuff and time and time again I sacrificed a whole night of sleep to watch back to back Netflix episodes, to complete a proposal for work or to catch up on housework.Now of course, I realize that instead of stealing time, time was stealing from me.  Four years after writing this post, I am scrambling to tidy my life back into 12 hours again.  The chances of a kid needing me overnight are considerably less.  Insomnia is plaguing me by times and preventing me from having quality time not just with myself , but also with my husband. I blame smart phones and my dependence on them. I blame self-employme...

When things speed up, I feel like I am observing my kids in a blur.  I try to hold on tight, but I am often left just clutching air as they (and more often me) whiz past.  The balloon from the party on the weekend floats above us, it's like a symbol of the minutes that I managed to be present, absolving me, while it slowly loses air.

Yes, I know I misspelled couch.  I meant couch, not coach. I have this bad habit of going to bed before my kids. I am trying to change things by laying on the couch and instead of waiting for their impossibly late bedtime (9 p.m.) for stories, I get them to bring me stories and we take turns reading them with silly voices. My son has a real command of a hushed, authoritarian and his whole body is composed as he reads. My daughter adds commentary as she goes that keeps me in stitches. It is entertaining. They are learning and my guilt is assuaged. The best part is I am lying down and still fulfilling my duty.

I did not used to have this problem, but slowly and surely over the past ten year (post kids), I have had a hard time sleeping. My son, who has been a notoriously bad sleeper since day one, says he "just doesn't want to say good bye to the day". I think this is my problem too. I stay awake when others sleep to visit with myself.  Sometimes, I over stay my welcome and now I am trying to learn how to make a graceful exit from today so I can be better overall tomorrow. Tomorrow, the day that I will have trouble saying good bye to after today.

Winter has been hard this year. It has been freezing doors shut, blowing ice through our veins and even my dreams have not been immune. Last night, I had a dream that I put my hand right inside a frozen pipe and hand melted the water free.  

We are taught from an early age not to yell for help when we are swimming in case we unduly alarm the people around us.  I took this lesson right to my heart. I have been thinking a lot lately about how I have somehow  trained myself to resist help.  Pride is partly to blame, never wanting to be accused of not being "helpful" is also a culprit.  For whatever reason, I feel compelled to tackle most of everything I do solo.  I repel help by not asking for it and assuming it's not needed, until it is. I have, in turned, trained the people around me not to expect that I need their help and I have almost (almost) forgotten how to ask for help. This weekend I needed help. I had a stressful situation on my hands (our hands) and I completely absorbed it.  My lips were trembling I was so stressed out, I could not think straight, my heart was racing. Help! I took my son to basketball. The sun was strong and gorgeous and we walked slowly  home toget...

Sometimes I dream about taking pictures of bark, up close. So close I can see every ridge, every sprig of moss. I stare intently (as intently as one can in a dream) at this flickering image and then it is gone.  A bubble floats past and magnifies a emerald green fern, forcing me to scrutinise that for a while, until it dissipates. Sometimes I am aware that actually I am in a forest.  Standing small among the crumbling trees and growing mushrooms, unsure of where I stand. What does this place consist of? What does it looks like? My vision can only see small cells of it at a time. I can't see all of it because I am absorbed by the speckled rocks around the base of one of its trees. Yesterday, a friend helped me understand that. She used different words, a different approach, a completely different analogy, but I got it. Today is a easier than yesterday.

As much as I find it hard to admit it, I find this time of year a bit exhilarating. As the chill sets in, I begin to turn my attention to galvanising* a routine that will make things happen  and happen with some semblance of order. As the beach days blur into memory,  it begins:  The sanding down of all the plans and schemes into a workable arrangement that allows for some head space in between fulfilling work and family responsibilities. It starts hard and heavy. It lurches and spits out possibilities. It throws new expectations our way. Certain habits start, others fall away. I get flustered and overwhelmed and slowly(too slowly) acknowledge (once again) that I can't do it all. A workable arrangement  stops. It starts. It stops. It starts a different way. And so that is how the new school year, our joint enterprise, begins. The workable arrangement  will most definitely be sanded down along many different contours by the...

"I wish we could start over our world is this world going to keep going and going? I wish the world didn't spin around i wish the world would just spin to daytime forever because I don't like night time. because you always have to sleep at night time when I always come down for a snack you always say no, but you keep saying no because i don't like tonight." -S. Price Light on dark snow. 2013

It is way to cliche to complain about being busy.  I am busy because I am privileged to have a job (which I like) and two healthy active kids (who I like).  However, these past couple of years have been strenuous.  I concede that I have taken certain (i.e. hundreds of) shortcuts to make things easier. Most of these shortcuts I am at peace with, (no vacuuming,wearing unmatched socks on a regular basis, not insisting on nightly baths and no homemade bread ...well, um, that never happened anyway).  There are hundreds of these shortened steps, I am sure, that I have gradually succumbed to accepting.  However, one of the shortcuts I am not so happy about has been cutting out baking and cutting down on cooking from scratch.  Cooking from scratch still happens but lots of shortcuts have been thrown into the mix which have also short changed  my joy doing it. In the process of saving time (initially to keep the impatient pleas from kids to a dull roar), I...

Once again, as I am every year at this time, I am a little in awe of produce.  I used to garden, and I've discussed my struggles with that  before .  However, the later summer days remind me once again why all the work is worth it.  I'm a bit like the grasshopper and everyone who gardens are like the ants.  While I'm chirping and playing my fiddle and swimming, the ants (who are probably chirping and swimming too) are diligently plowing and weeding and caring for their patch.  Right about now, their gardens start to fill with food.  Even the butterflies and bees are in on the action. I'm almost like the raccoon(without the audacity), hoping to get a munch on that fleshy fruit that I've absolutely had nothing to do with nurturing.  One of these springs, I'm really going to have to start being an ant again or a bee or a butterfly.  Those ants, they sure make great potatoes and beans and tomatoes!