We’re more than halfway through a new month of a brand new year and you’ll be comforted to know
that nothing much has changed around here. Mornings are still harried as I race
against the clock to get myself and two boys out the door looking our parts: me
– business casual, them – ready for running, jumping and whatever they do that has worn out the knees on just about every pair of pants they own, all the while remembering everything it entails: a packed lunch and backpack, dry mittens, hats, zippers and snowpants, homework and signed notes, and
often, a toy or well-loved stuffy to bring the familiarity of home to where
they spend their days.
Many mornings go as smooth as these things can, meaning I’ve used minimal
bribery for cooperation, I’ve not had to yell (too much) to be heard, and our
goodbyes are said without tears or resentment.
But many mornings have been the exact opposite of this.
Our nights
fare about the same: pick-ups spent gathering wet mittens and hats, slapdash dinners
from whatever we remembered to put on the grocery list, homework and
note-signing, bath-times and bedtimes, and a generous glass of wine to tie it
all together.
Always a
glass of wine.
Since I
posted last, I’ve read halfway through two books, built three Lego vehicles, straightened
out four junk drawers, donated five bags of clothes, and ice skated for the
first time in almost 26 years. I also started drinking more water, and watching
The Guardian on Netflix.
Two words:
Simon.Baker.
It’s that
long, hard part of winter and I’m doing my best to make the best of it. By practicing
radical self-care (as Anne Lamott calls it), I’m hoping to cheat the system. I’m
cleaning and purging, organizing and hydrating, reading and sticking
to my routines. I'm also staying far, far away from sugar and cuddling the kids
as much as I can.
And if I
can remember to do it, I’m thinking good, wholesome, positive thoughts. Sometimes it's the only way to neutralize the winter blues.
One morning last week, I woke Naveen up, and held his sleepy little body on my hip. With his arms around my neck he asked me if it was the weekend yet. It was
only Tuesday. I kissed his head and tried to think of a way to answer that
without making it sound like Saturday was eons away.
It sure felt like it to me.
Santa left Jenga under the tree for Deaglan. We played the intended way a few times but he found more fun ways to use the wooden pieces.
Please ignore the empty raisin box. And the empty playdough container. And the unswept bit of floor.
That's a tiny Lego Mutant Ninja Turtle on top of that tower.
Leonardo, to be accurate.
There's been lots of time spent in our favourite pajamas.
Santa left Jenga under the tree for Deaglan. We played the intended way a few times but he found more fun ways to use the wooden pieces.
Please ignore the empty raisin box. And the empty playdough container. And the unswept bit of floor.
That's a tiny Lego Mutant Ninja Turtle on top of that tower.
Leonardo, to be accurate.
There's been lots of time spent in our favourite pajamas.
Lots of time spent watching our favourite shows. With Raphael.
Are you impressed with my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle know-how? Naveen always is...he asks me at least five times a day who my favourite Turtle is. I always say the same thing. Hands down Michaelangelo, Dude!
And I got to wander a thrift store for a few hours to start this gallery wall.
What about you, what are you doing on these long cold winter days?
