It seems to me that I spend far too much time whinging, and wondering when I’m going to get to do anything with my life.
I’ve had this quote in a sticky note on my desktop for two months. Two months. It was part of an online course I started, that was supposed to teach me to live well, love fully, let go deeply in 137 days.
I did two days of it, then came to an assignment that relied on an assignment I was supposed to have done the day before, but obviously had only thought about in passing rather than actually spending time on, and there I stalled.
Two days. I couldn’t keep up a life changing course that only asked you to do three things each day for more than two days.
I can make excuses. I’m really good at making excuses. I’m busy. I have four children. I home educate. I cook from scratch. There’s shopping, and books to read, and washing to do and twitter to gaze at. And the days drift by, and very little changes.
I hate this time of year. Dark evenings. And the sleeping pattern I’m in with the youngest children means I lose two to three hours of daylight each morning. So my slide into SAD is accelerated instead of controlled, and within days of the clock change I’m wishing away the winter and praying for the sun to return.
But as I wish the winter away, I wish the last baby days away. And I don’t want to do that. I want to savour them. I want to cherish every gummy smile, be present in each crawling moment. And somehow reconnect with the toddler who is adrift from me, and find the time to share with the 9 year old and guide the 12 year old.
Somewhere down the line there is me. I want to cherish me. I want to own myself and my life and fill my needs apart from motherhood. Motherhood doesn’t define me, but neither does this whinging.
7 years of whinging on this blog. You’d think I could change the record really.
Somehow I’ve got to. Because this is real life I’m wishing away.





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