What do I always do when I find things beginning to whirl away from me, uncontrollably? I return to what I can control: the atmosphere of my home, the food we eat, the time I set aside for myself and the way I think. The way I feel tries really hard to obstruct the way I think. It is much more indulgent to let myself feel things and react accordingly. That must be what it is like to live like a caricature of an impassioned Italian couple, who can fight animatedly before embracing passionately, wearing their hearts on their sleeves, unapologetic. But, it's not me.
I sometimes wonder if I am too repetitive in this space, always waxing about the need to simplify, setting priorities, eating nourishing food, trying to be patient. I'm sure if I poured through my journals, it would border on concerning. "All work and no play make Jack a dull boy," could easily be written, "All yelling and no patience make me a guilty mama." But that refrain keeps repeating itself, a pattern woven through my daily thoughts, intentions and reflective writings. So each day, I pick up the pieces of the one before and start again at this set of goals I may never reach. Eat well, cuddle lots, be patient, do yoga, do what's right, show love always.
As much as it may be repetitive for you to read, remember: I do this for me. These are my records, my scrapbooks. These are the pages I will always return to when I feel a wave of nostalgia, or to reference what I did and thought the last time I found myself dealing with trouble. I love looking back at time with just Abby, or Hailey and Robin as cherubic babies, or the harried weeks after Summer was born. Each new reading gives me new clues, more clarity as I ask myself the questions, "What should I do now?" and "How did I get here?"
Deep thoughts for a rainy Tuesday afternoon.
I am trying. Always, I am trying. To be more patient when Summer breaks a plate I really loved. (So long, Beatrix Potter). To stop myself from yelling when there is so much noise around me I can hardly think and no one is listening. To stop reading articles on Jian Ghomeshi when my time would be better used doing yoga or preparing supper ahead of time. To sit and read books over and over with Summer, because she loves it. To lead Hailey and Robin through basic yoga postures named after animals when they clearly need to get some energy out. To let Abby read her own bedtime story aloud, even though it takes longer, because her beaming pride at the story's end is electric. To bite my tongue and accept rich as he is, because he is amazing, and I don't always need to be right.
We are preparing for Halloween, excitedly. Tomorrow is pumpkin carving and painting. We've done a trial run of the costumes and face paint at a children's Halloween party over the weekend. We still have to get candy to hand out and draw straws to see which one of us stays home to give it out while the other takes the kids out. Abby has been talking over all the scary things she saw last year to build up her courage of what she might encounter this year.
Rich and I are excited, too. For the first year in many, we get to go out after the more wholesome trick-or-treating fun to a party at a friend's place. Stay tuned for our very Rich-and-Sarah costumes.