Yesterday was the first day of March, the first day of a new season, the first day of the rest of ever. And so on! :)
I made a resolution yesterday. First, I thought, "Hey, what if I posted something here every single day of the month? That'd be kind of cool!"
Then I thought, "I'm going to do it. I really am. This is the first day of writing every day. It'll be great!"
Resolution made. Great feeling—made me feel bold and euphoric. Suddenly, here was an excellent and mighty Plan. I wanted to hug it for its awesomeness. And that's the thing about Plans—they're amazing for making you feel great the minute you've made them/written them down/declared them to yourself (and possibly the world). Have you noticed? You make the Plan. You feel gladness, rising. In that moment, not only is the plan made, but the plan's achieved. Pure gold.
So then, the day moved forward, with all its regular beauty. There was writing, there were games, there was a visit from Nana, there was happy maths. There was a writers workshop and Thai food. There were cuddles with the kitten and the cat. There was dog walking and talking and singing and smiling. So much smiling!
Then it was night. It was late, suddenly, and the kids were only just going off to bed. I thought, "Right. That's cool; I'm tired, but no matter. It's almost time to write my first post of the month. The one that will kickstart my Mighty Plan! Any minute now…"
But then it was 9.30, and my girl's chest hurt, she had an itchy rash, things were unravelling. She was so tired, but couldn't get to sleep. You know those nights? They kind of suck, because you actually want to sleep. But your body/mind/self won't let you.
And then she was crying and new worries appeared, the way they do, when your mind opens itself up to Sad.
She said, "I wish you could stay with me Mummy. Please, could you stay?"
And all these thoughts quickflashed past:
Oh, but I want to go downstairs and write!
If I lie down with my girl I know I'll get sleepy.
What about my resolution?
Okay I'll lie next to her until she falls asleep then I'll go down and write.
But she might wake then and wonder where I am and if I promise to stay I should stay.
But what about my blog? What about the Mighty Plan??
Well, what about it?
Here in this moment my girl is sad. Here, in this moment, a girl wants her mum. Wants the closeness, the warmth, the safety, the love. Just wants it. Can't explain why.
We all have those wants. I still have them. I still want my mum, and I'm OLD.
So I lay down beside my girl.
She said, "Are you really staying?"
"I sure am."
A few minutes later, I got up. Went and brushed my teeth, got into my jammies. I committed. Got back into bed.
"What did you do?" she asked.
"Just got ready for bed. I'm in my jammies!"
What a smile. She scooched closer. She wrapped my hands in hers. She breathed in deeply, breathed out. All the sorrow gone. It was beautiful.
And five minutes later, at the door—a boy.
(A boy who had chosen—just after we made our Big Family Bedroom a month or so ago—to return to his room. Because of 1. the heat, 2. the heat, and 3. Dad's snoring…!)
He said, "Are you staying up here, Mum?"
I said, "I sure am."
"Can I lie here with you for a while?"
"Yep. You can sleep here, if you like. For the whole night!"
Then there were three in the bed, scooched up, pillows joined, heads close, all sorrow gone.
Ten minutes later, there were four. All of us, the whole family, falling asleep at the same time. Here in the togetherdark, which is never ever scary.
And my blog post for the first of March? The one that would start my Post-Every-Single-Day-of-the-Month Mighty Plan? Didn't happen. My excellent resolution? Blown out of the water!
And I slept deeply and I slept sweetly. And woke to my childrens' smiles.