Busy Doing Nothing
I've been practicing the art of Doing Less. This week I played truant from my writers' class to loll on the sofa instead, bored into a sleepy stupor by the TV until I went to bed because I couldn't think of anything else worth doing. It felt fabulous.
Apparently Doing Less keeps me so busy doing little that I don't have any time left for blogging. It's a peculiar thing, to take a break from it. At first every little detail that seems bloggable flits past, leaving me with the impatient urge to capture it, and then after a while it just all disappears, and I am content to let it go.
I don't think there's space to blog AND write. I know they're one and the same in many ways but I need to capture the daily habit I've cultivated for blogging and channel it into a different place. I'll keep showing up here but mostly to keep the Grandparents up to speed with their little people. I need to start saving the words for other places.
Speaking of which, I got my first rejection letter and it made me happy. It felt like progress, and the letter spoke of an exceptionally high standard of entries, and bemoaned the lack of space which meant that only one entry could be selected for the printed page. I'm in the throes of writing my first profile piece for Literary Mama, and soaking up every ounce of the experience, from reading a thought-provoking book to interviewing the authors and filling my head with opening lines or Things I Must Not Forget To Include. I've also started reading through the draft of my first stab at a novel. It's a long way from finished but I think a read-through is in order to bring some more direction. I'm in turns horrified and mildly amused. But not yet deterred! I'm itching to try my hand at script-writing next, struggling to keep the ideas contained and to keep a sense of careful focus.
Yesterday, standing on a sand dune, transfixed by the ferocious beauty of the crashing waves, it ocurred to me that the waves wouldn't seem so graceful if I found myself inside them. Which also means that if ever you feel like you might be drowning, it's worth remembering that from another perspective the very same thing could look like perfect beauty, forceful calm. I've been in waves before myself but already look back on them and see the marks of majesty, whilst not forgetting the angry swell and overwhelming noise.
I'm realising how far behind us the days of babyhood are. I'm the mother of a pair of wild wee boys and it requires entirely new skills and faculties than baby-rearing did. I'm enjoying the stretch, rising to the challenge. Sometimes getting it exceptionally right, and then the experience is exhilarating beyond belief. But sometimes falling short, and then it's humbling, hard and slow. Half the pleasure's in the mix, the tilt, the rollercoaster ride.
I was sick last week and surprised to feel so anchored to a place by other people. Get-well flowers, unexpected grocery supplies, and a few hours respite thanks to a mum-friend who took The Boy to playgroup on my behalf. And then discovered that the baby she is expecting in a month is actually two!
I'm embracing the family season that calls on us to spend less and use everything more resourcefully. Without meaning to sound weird, it feels good for my soul. Therapeutic, healing, practical. We're supposed to learn these things, I've come to realise, and the process makes me feel somehow much more present, real. Rooted in the here and now and more grown-up, responsible in a way that doesn't just imply obligations.
Next week I'm supposed to see a shrink, but can't for the life of me remember why I felt the need?! I'm doing the difficult thing and going anyway, keeping an open mind and making no expectations of myself or him / her. I'll just see what's asked of me, and what of me presents itself.
I read something today that Jackie Kennedy was supposed to have said along the lines that if you make a mess out of bringing up your kids it doesn't really matter what else you do with your life after that. I love that thought; it terrifies me and yet made me laugh out loud. My son is eating toast in his pjyamas, and I need to go and tell him that he rocks my world, whatever happens.
Comments
And hang on - your friend is due in a MONTH and they've only just discovered she's expecting twins????!!!
I completely agree about needing new skills for each developmental stage. Just when you establish a comfortable groove the kids go and change on you. Its something I thought would be really satisfying to watch. And it is. I love seeing my son learn and grow but I never truly thought about how the constant change would be unsettling to my Type A personality. I love schedules and predictability. Yet babies and toddlers do not really lend themselves to predictability :)
yes! she's pretty earth-mother-ish and so had eschewed all opportunity for scans... but the midwife noticed something a little amiss and suggested a scan - and they're twins! and her 2nd child is only the same age as Z!
WT - i loved your comments the other day about us being separated at birth - i ABSOLUTELY concur and felt like i'd found my long lost best friend when i first happened upon your blog! thanks for the congrats, will def keep you posted. i'm SO type A too. it's a head trip letting them change me, but i kinda love it!