Remember the Bjork song?
It’s oh, so, quiet.
It’s oh, so, still.
You’re all alone.
And so peaceful until.
My phone sent me a reminder.
It’s not my message, it’s the first little travellers. Our technology syncs and I’m constantly reminded of her world. Pinches and punches, Talking Tom, and Kik.
The second little traveller rang me a few weeks ago at 2 a.m. “they’re going to choose the soccer team in a couple of weeks! Why’s it so dark Mum? Can you turn the lights on? I can barely see you”.
Last night it was the third little traveller. “Oh whoops, sorry Mum, it’s night time right? I better go, I’m meant to be reading” There was a shout in the background “Nooooooooooo”, it was travellers two and three, there was no way they were going to miss out on the action. They mooshed their three little faces together to fit into the screen and I kissed them all.
And then I sat for an hour, wide awake. Thinking about them.
It’s oh, so, quiet.
A friend sent a text yesterday “You must be bored stupid”. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am so far from bored. I’ve been given a gift, something I haven’t had in years. I can sit and stare out the window for an hour and be in a total state of bliss, no sound, no requests, nowhere to go.
I eat whatever I want for dinner. I have a glass of wine each night and sit outside and listen to the birds. I put on face masks and moisturize my skin. I drink my coffee in bed each morning while I flick through the morning shows and read the newspaper. I think about G and the little travellers constantly, I think about their words and what they mean. I watch G in the background, making people breakfast, reminding people to hurry up. I look at their faces, really look at their faces, while they react to things others are saying.
If I think back to what the hardest acclimatization of becoming a parent was, it was realizing that I was going to be vulnerable for the rest of my life. Fears were doubled and then tripled, and by the time my fourth extra heart was born and carried around in the form of a little boy, I knew the odds weren’t good. Four times the what if.
I’ve taken a deep breath. Exhaled. And smiled at the thought of re-entering the chaos.
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What a wonderful way to look at your big picture.
Glad your time away has been so productive and reflective – quite a gift really in the end in spite of all that mucky stuff 😉
Amazing post! And you’re right, what a gift it is. The chaos can be overwhelming and the relentless minutiae can take your focus away from what’s important. X
beautifully put. sometimes it takes time away or for others, reading a blog post such as yours to put things into perspective.
That sounds like bliss to me. Some breathing space x
Love this post – the #1 thing I was not prepared for becoming a parent..the vulnerability. Nobody ever mentions it!
Love this post too! Brings a tear to my eye as I sit and watch my 5 month old daughter sleeping… just beautiful words.
I cannot wait til you see them all again in the flesh, and maybe after that I will stop tearing up every single time I read one of your posts. Keep enjoying the quiet, still time.
Hope you’re feeling rested and strong, and glad that some peace and perspective have come from this ‘time out’. Agree, we spend so much time at the front line it’s hard to see quite how amazing it all is x
Hi! 😉
Hi!
Hope your recovery is going well lovely. I too enjoyed the quiet it gave me time to grieve for mum too and sort out my head space xx