Not everyone, it seems, is taking kindly to the mostly young mums posting insta-shots of delectable-looking homemade treats fresh out of the oven, served up for the kiddies – who, by the way, are photographed sitting in their neat and tidy work space, pencil in hand, ready to learn. #stayathome. These micro-level local celebrities, a.k.a. ‘friends’ we like to stalk, who seem to have it all together, are the people we all greatly admire, and, also, love to hate. Because unless included amongst the vision of beautifully-kept children and gourmet delights are the candid photographs of squabbling, snatching, squealing and the like; then the insta-life, for us mere humans, is entirely unattainable.
My day is like sailing on a sailboat, alone and unassisted. It’s success, solely dependent on the conditions. Weather. Mood. Competing Demands. The waning concentration of my school boy. I know I am asking too much, when the electrical impulse running through my school boy has him looking like one of those tall, skinny tube men plonked at car dealerships waving in the wind. This, combined with the toddler, bursting open the doors to the sideboard, pulling out an avalanche of papers previously shoved/filed away, is enough to do it. I don’t even need the third one present to feel a rise in my blood pressure, the return of shallow breaths.
In my last post, after becoming over-involved in my son’s schooling, and then taking a big step back, literally out the door, I wrote: ‘I achieved the trifecta I was after; two, playful happy children, one focused, very mature little school boy writing freely at his designated workspace.’ Yeah, sure, I achieved this – for a time.
But nothing lasts forever, and that is why I am shifting my focus to savour the small ‘wins.’ The part of my day I savour the most, however, just happens to be when the house is at its most quiet – even my school boy expressed recently that while he generally prefers ‘loud,’ he now also enjoys ‘peace;’ sometimes.
This is what ‘peace,’ in daylight hours, looks like for me.
My shoulders relax, my breathing steadies at the last dish dried, the washing folded. From the window, I see the boys jumping on the trampoline, their squeals of delight silenced by the glass between us. I peer into the next room to see Little Miss, bum in the air, fast asleep. I watch her little breaths, soaking in the unfamiliar, yet exhilarating, sound of silence.
Laid out before me is a gift; a small but precious window – my older brother, who had kids well before us, used to speak of this elusive ‘window,’ back then I found it perplexing. For those unfamiliar to the term, a ‘window’ is a small opening of time before it all falls apart. In this scenario, it is the time before the boys begin banging on the back door – though they need only open it – and the toddler wakes, ready to unload the dishwasher of dirty dishes, unpack the bin of its contents, or select items from the washing basket to deposit throughout the house.
So, I set the mood. Light a candle called ‘Peace,’ set the TV to something only I like to watch, plate up a sandwich and a segment of orange chocolate; the latter, as Miss Trunchbull from Matilda put it, ‘Much too good for children.’
But first, before I indulge, I step quietly past the sleeping toddler, and duck to the toilet.
And there it is.
Upon opening the door, I feel like a kid who’s just dropped their ice-cream.
My window; now shut.
2 thoughts on “The ‘Window’”
Haha! I love this!! (I love all of your pieces.) I also love when they are all asleep for the night, or in many cases like mine, a couple of hours at night when they are all asleep. But why do we still get the itch to go and wake them for one last cuddle? I noticed that you have had to create other “windows” by the time that your blog was uploaded…. 2:17am!! I think you’re crazy, but I know writing is your saviour and your happy place, so I say “go for it!” Keep up the great work Mumma.
Thanks Tegan. I always appreciate your positive feedback! Writing is definitely my happy place…just updated the time zone for my website – definitely wasn’t up at 2am (although I’ve been getting up at 530am every morning to write).
I so know what you mean about those sleepy cuddles, especially when their chin slumps down on your shoulder- bliss.