Dear Flarbulous,
Please forgive me for it has been...six months since my last post. You see, I've been busy. Yes, 'busy', the excuse we all give for everything, typically followed by it's cousin 'no time.'
But I really have!
My husband travels for work nearly every week, but now that it is winter he is home most weekends and I inject as much family time as I can into those moments. I am pregnant. Now more heavily pregnant, and tired, frequently sick, and so sick and tired of both. Solo-parenting with a full time job and a full time toddler and dog (and pregnant) is a lot. But as I always say 'the more you do, the more you can do' and so help me I have been doing it! Let's not kid ourselves, I had to get help, I had an au pair live with us for six months, until she apparently saw the light and took a cash paying job with another family. And good riddance I said! Don't get me wrong, she was beyond helpful and it was beyond convenient to be able to work late, or fly home late, or go out at night (haaa, let's not kid that didn't happen too much) but living with someone that, well that you don't love, is awkward. I'm not a slob, or too OCD but I start getting particular when particular things aren't clean enough, or whatever, and she was clean! She had a different parenting style, and it complimented mine but, sometimes you just want to go to the bathroom with the door open, you know? That's all. I was two steps away from total relaxation in my own home, and I didn't like it.
So, I reclaimed my independence with triumph and quick found exhaustion, and here we are. Surviving, and thriving on surviving. But I am just in survival mode these days; I don't think about free time or extra activities other than sleep. So when this glorious long weekend came along, and my husband told me he wouldn't be home until Sunday night... well, fine, we'll hibernate at home and we'll sleep, I told myself. But a glorious friend of mine had other plans.
"We are going to go to the beach on Sunday, and Sofia [Andrew's best friend since 6 wks old] would like Andrew to come along."
"Oh that's a great idea! We'd love to do the beach." I said.
"Yes, well that's just it," she replied, "you're not invited, just Andrew is. I don't know how else to help you when you don't ask for help, so we are going to take your son for the day, and that's that."
I didn't know what to say. (I mean of course I said yes, one must always accept help when offered.) But suddenly, watching my son that Sunday morning merrily jump into a car, without me, and happily squeal, 'bye mommy, i see you later!' Well, I was being given a break in the 'survival' and I was overwhelmed with decisions on how to 'thrive.'
Immediately, as any mother would, I thought of all the things I 'neeeed' to do. Walk the dog, laundry, groceries, and tried to let some of the 'but wouldn't it be nice if' 'want to do's' come in as well, but it was hard to give them any thought at all. Finally I settled on a bit of both; walk the dog with a coffee (with two free arms and one dog, and no child running away in the opposite direction.) And suddenly eating breakfast out sounded equally as appealing as eating it in a quiet home, so I bought some groceries and made it happen.
And finally, finally, I decided to look at my 'goals for the year' and try to finish painting the canvas I had started for my son 3 years (three years!) earlier that I had never finished... or was never ready to call it finished... it was fine as it was, I'm no PIcasso, I know that...but it wasn't complete.
And with that, I turned on some recordings of Oprah's Super Soul Sunday, made some tea, and started to paint, and listen to the wisdom of those who were explaining what life is all about. It's about love, and that the path we are on, is the path we are meant to be on... there is no 'when I get to the next step of a better life' there is just this life, and while that initially sounded a little defeating, there was nothing to stop us from taking those steps to make it better, or to know that it would all work out that way anyway, so stressing about it wasn't going to make a difference. And then I listened to one so powerful, I wouldn't grasp all of the lessons but one... that Critic in our heads? The one I always talk about? He's. Not. Me. He's not me! He's some asshole in my head and I'm observing his asshole comments but they are not my comments, or my opinions, I am but the Observer. And whether or not it is true, it is something very valid worth believing.
Fast forward a few hours, and I finished that painting, To The Moon and Back, I put my signature on it, I smiled with true contentment at my work, I felt like I had just won the lottery. And in many ways I had. I finally stopped and ticked something of my year long to do list, that wasn't pivotal, but it was important to me. I took time for myself, to the next level. And that night, as I lay falling asleep, taking the deep breaths of desperate free flowing air like I usually do, there was nothing emotional blocking my path. Nothing! I couldn't believe it, I kept waiting for it to reappear, but my deep breath was endless to the capacity of my lungs, over and over and over. And that my friends, was priceless for me.
The next night I found an old lottery ticket floating around the house, actually from the date of my last post, in March, and as I looked up the numbers, I just knew I would win, and I did. $40.40. I was beaming. "Every dollar I spend comes back to me multiplied!" was something I read from The Secret a few days before, and just enough, it was just about 3x the money I had spent.
I still felt guilty for letting my friend take care of my son for seven hours, but deep down I had more gratitude than guilt, and she reminded me of what friendships are for. I am still learning. And of course I told her how I had spent my day, but she will never truly understand the magnitude of those moments in my life. I only hope that one day I can pass on the favour.
Here's to putting ourselves first.
K x
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