a perfect day really

Say you're alive. 

Say the sun is out. And music is in the air.

Say the world is calling you.

Say you have a girl and a boy and a husband, 

who make your insides shiver with how much you love them.

Say you have a dog

and say there are many other dogs

getting together for a walk in a park

to raise money for the RSPCA.

You put this all together, and 

what do you have?

Well, a perfect day really…

 A girl and a mum 

and a dog 

walking with a thousand others

(some on two feet,

some on four

and some in little buggies because 

they were too old

or too young to walk),

while 

a boy and a dad

(and their friends)

played music for them all.

Then say you're still up for adventure.

Say you need icecream!

and more sunshine!

and trees!

and you need to jump,

(oh, you really really do)

What do you do?

Well, you make an already perfect day…

perfect-er.

:)

perambulatin'

perambulate |pəˈrambyəˌlāt|
verb [ trans. ] formalwalk or travel through or around (a place or area), esp. for pleasure and in a leisurely way : she perambulated the square.
Well, imagine that! That's EXACTLY what I did today. Except for the square part. I didn't perambulate a square—I perambulated into and around my whole TOWN. Yeah, I did. And yeah, I'm pleased with myself.

… I should probably start at the beginning, shouldn't I.
The thing is, this past week, I've been feeling lowly and poorly and sorry for myself. I have. There, it's out. At least three days in a row of low and sorry and anxious and sad. Ugh. 
So I thought. It's time to do something. Take a day off. Recharge. 
First I thought: I want to go to a hotel and lie on a bed and watch movies ALL DAY.
Then I thought: I want to go up to Sydney and find a movie house and watch movies ALL DAY.
Then I thought: I'll just go into town, and watch movies ALL DAY.
As I got ready to go out, I got overwhelmed, and I thought:I want to shut my bedroom door and lie on my bed and stay there ALL DAY.
Which is when I knew I really had to get out.
Luckily at that very moment, I thought: 
Maybe I should go up the mountain and go for a hike? Which was the perfect thought, because then I realised—I just want to be OUT. I just want to walk outside, and be under that blue sky. I want to get OUT and move my body and walk and walk and walk and spend hours with just my thoughts for company, OUT in the sunshine…
So that's what I did. I just 
stepped out my door and… walked 12 kilometres into town.
I really did! 
It felt unbelievable.


Fifteen minutes in, I saw the sea 

and the sun was shining like crazy!

And I saw interesting things straightaway. Who knew that on some side road you'd find this?

People were dropping off their gas canisters and old batteries in a random carpark near the beach. It was a "Don't come to us; we'll come to you!" traveling hazardous waste collection service. How very friendly and helpful.
And I saw things of beauty. Like, over and over and over. 

Because this whole time, I was walking by the sea. Either on a path near the sea or on the sand right by the sea or in the vicinity of the sea, and I could feel its energy the whole time, lifting me.
Or was that the wind? 'Cos the wind was NUTS. After a while of leaning into it, like after about an hour, I thought, Huh. This isn't quite as fun as the beginning. 
And then I had this existential thought. (Which is one of the great things about long walks. You have thoughts! Uninterrupted ones! Deep ones and thin ones, fat ones and shallow ones! Lovely.)
Anyway, I thought: 
This walk is a bit like life, isn't it? In that, in life you don't really know when you'll have fun or not have fun. But you keep walking. And you keep thinking, maybe in a minute I won't be walking into the wind. Maybe in a minute, I'll round the path and see something cool. 

Like a big old surfboat race

and a person swimming (swimming!!) in the rock pool 

while people in beanies and jackets stood in the gusting wind and watched the boats tear by.  A little later, I took a pathaway from the windand stood near some trees and listened to birds talkingand families whizzed past on their bikes
and I kept on walking. And walking and walking. With the sun on my back the whole time, so my shadow kept me company everywhere I went. 

And in this way, I walked into town. Stopping and watching and listening and taking note

 of the ships lined on the horizon 

of swimmers braving the cold, 

how the view stretched on,

and the trees stood and kept each other company.

Suddenly, there I was, 

12 kilometres in, in town. 

And I was HUNGRY. 

So then, there I was, 

sitting in a pub (A pub! Like a grown-up!) having my lunch (by myself!) and feeling just. so. good. 

(And my lunch rocked, by the way.) 

But the adventure wasn't even over.

Because then I walked just a bit more…

and took myself to the movies. 

And sat for two whole hours in the happy dark, lost in another world, while my tired knees rested and my spirit sighed with contentment.

When I got out, it was dark and cold. And I was in town. Without a car.

What did I do?

I caught a bus! The first bus I've taken in ages. And it wasn't long, and only took me part-way home and I still needed to get picked up, but for those 10 minutes, I just 

basked.

I remembered all the bus rides of my university days, and the bus rides through the cities I'd lived in, and how I used to people-watch, and it was always just me, 

independant, unfettered, free as a bird,

and I smiled for that old me and that old life.

While just itching to get home

to the life I have now,

refreshed and worn-out, both.

Ready to share my Grand Adventure with my kids and husband,

wanting to see how their  faces lit up when they saw me,

knowing my face would light up just the same,

when I saw them. 

.

wintery thoughts

It's getting COLD here. Just like that, winter's here. Our sort of winter anyway. The kind where you can be in a t-shirt walking to the shops during the day, then bundled up in jackets and leaning against a chill wind the moment the sun sets.

I feel the change of seasons and have begun to make winter plans.

I sure don't intend for us to hibernate!

I plan…

to build a winter garden

to walk everywhere, bundled up and beanied if we have to be

to catch buses to unknown destinations!

to walk the dog with friends

to climb the dunes at the beach, even if it makes our noses run in the cold

to fly kites (well, to buy kites, then fly them)

to make lots and lots of hot chocolates

to go to the library, even Often-er than before

to visit for whole days with friends,

just letting time go by

to go by train to the big smoke

and see art galleries and look up at the skyscrapers

to leave the learning to life and flow

and not force it when the sky is grey and motivation is missing

to live!

to skip in whatever sun we have, whether it's weak and watery or

blazing in a wind-whipped sky

to enjoy this new time…

with every thing

we have in us.

this time last year…

Bliss.

the mother I was

For years I have looked back on my first year of parenting and seen mostly…

dark.

Blurry, sleepless, panicky, lonely, word-less, lost, shrinking, confused,

dark.

I have looked back and thought…

That was the year I suffered post-partum depression. That was the year I stopped sleeping. The year my sister flew out three times from Australia to see us (but also to check in, check in, check in). That was the year I felt like I'd failed. The year I saw doctors, psychiatrists, and counsellors, went to a managing depression class, and was told to take medication. That was the year I agreed, began to take medication, saw a counsellor regularly, reached out to friends and family for help, exercised, and finally,

finally,

slept.

I have mentioned to my kids some of what I went through, but only lightly. I didn't want to worry them, or have my son think I wasn't completely in love with him the year he arrived. (Because I was. Oh, I loved him so much I couldn't sleep for fear I'd miss the moment he needed me.)

Over the following year, I crawled my way out of the darkness, with my son's tiny hand in mine.

With the love of family and friends, I made my way to joy.

It took me years, literally, to see myself as a good mother. Years!

But I am here now.

So yesterday,

ten years after I began my journey towards wellness,

I settled in with my beautiful family, to watch my husband's Mother's Day present to me:


All the videos of our first year as parents, made into a movie.


We filled dozens of little film cassettes that first year. I had no idea where we'd put them in our various moves, from country to country, home to home. But my husband found them and, over the past year, has been sorting, compiling, editing, adding backdrops and captions.

Finding the memories, noting the joy.

Making a present of our history.

I watched an hour

of our first year as parents…

and it was filled with light.

There I am, smiling and laughing. There's my husband, dancing with my son to jazz in our living room. There's my mother, smiling as my son tries to take off her glasses. There are my sister and her small daughters, holding my son, laughing with us, dancing, playing music.

There is my husband in the shower with my tiny boy. There—is the sneaky shot I took of my husband's bottom while in the shower. There—is my impish grin. There, and there—a peal of laughter—mine. There is my face, close up, leaning forward to kiss the top of my son's head. There—is love.

There is joy. There is sunshine. And discovery, and laughter, and time with the people I love most.

Friends, family, other children, music music everywhere. The sun literally pours into the rooms. My voice is gentle. The love is whole and pure.

There is the mother I was.

There is the love I had.

There is the son I adored.

There is light.

There was light in that first year. My husband found it, and ten years later, gave it to me as a gift.

Can he ever know what a huge gift that was?

Because it came home to me, like a hard hug, a jolt. I was there, the whole time, that year. The mother I was then is the mother I am now. The love was as deep and whole and good then as it is now.

I can be proud of the light I carried, and the love.

I can let go of the old,

let go of the dark.


And to my husband
and the ones I love so dearly, I say:

thank you.

the light that lifts me up

Sometimes a weight comes.

You carry it around. After a day or two, you think: You still here?

So, you feel it out. You wonder: Hmmm, where are you coming from?

Is it a cyclic thing, like the moon, or a slowspun wheel, clicking onto Sad briefly before moving on?

Is it the news that a dear friend lost one of her friends to cancer a few days ago? Her friend was 39.

Is it the strange energy from recent world news, spreading out like stone-rippled water?

Is it the Busy? The trying to stay ahead and on top of things?

Is it the Not Sleeping Enough?



What is it?


I feel around.

I sit in the quiet and try to find the source.

But I don't know it and can't find it, exactly. So… do I stay here, sifting, or do I try to lift myself up to the light?


I reach into my day…

and lift the light out.


It is morning. I hold an egg, still warm, just laid by a proud hen. I cup it in my hand. It is clean and round and perfect.

I watch my girl's face as she plays violin for her dad after breakfast. It's not even a day after her first ever violin lesson. She is so delighted.

I wait for my kids to make birthday cards for their friend. They work on their cards for hours. I am not allowed to see!

I sit at the table and read a book that makes me laugh out loud not once, not twice, but three times in just as many pages. 

Just-after-lunchtime, we go out into the day. We take our friend out for present shopping! For cake eating and hot chocolate drinking! Her smile makes the whole day sing.

I listen to the laughter of children. 

Late afternoon, and I watch my kids at art class, heads bent over the paper. Their focus feels like someone holding something vital in place. 

When we get home, dinner is ready and waiting, made by my beautiful husband. It is delicious. Each bite tastes like love.

Night time. I listen to my children making tangram puzzles on the floor.

The dishwasher whispers in the distance.

The kitten reaches a pink tongue and licks her back.

The stairs creak as the kids laugh and chatter their way upstairs to get ready for bed.


The light is there in every single moment.


The light that,

if I focus on it,

can lift me straight up,

and leave me smiling inside.



.

why? where? who? what? when?

My kids just could not help themselves. 

This past weekend was incredible

with the kids learning, doing, building, making, 

thinking, asking, wanting, 

keeping so very busy every minute of every day.

(And it was kind of insane how they just kept on going, 

so I grabbed an old exercise book 

and wrote it all down as the weekend went by)

This is what they did. A simple list, really!

1. Read about Greenpeace and asked, What are Genetically Modified Foods? (boy)

2. Looked up Genetically Modified Foods and read out information to whoever would listen. (boy) 

3. Wrote a stunning story based on this painting

Paul Ryan
Welcome to the Forest

 and submitted it for a competition at the City Art Gallery. (boy!)

4. Helped her dad do all the grocery shopping 
(while finishing off her ice-cream cone). 
(girl—who couldn't wait to hang with her dad)

5. Researched a Winter Vege patch and looked up Winter crops. 

(girl)

6. Read Youngzine. (boy)

7. Researched who invented the Computer. (girl)

(And did you know it was a dude called Charles Babbage? 

And it all started with the humble Abacus?  

…And then there was this guy who created a programmable loom for weaving, 

and the whole thing took off from there. So interesting!)

8. Learned how to lay a carpet from a DIY video at the hardware store
(and compared carpet, tile and rug prices like seasoned carpet shoppers!). 
(boy and girl)

9. Prepared a beautiful Italian dinner using his own Italian cookbook. 

(boy and Helper Dad)

10. Watched Getaway, a travel program on T.V. and fell in love with the jellyfish of Palau. (travel-hungry boy and girl)

National Geographic

11. On a gorgeous sunny Sunday, 
went scootering all along the foreshore and into town. 

(hmm, I wonder who did that?)

12. Created a design for an iphone app
and 
decided we had to learn how to make iphone apps 
right this very minute! 

(girl)

13. Downloaded an app-making program and learned about LUA, 

a computer programming language. So hard, and yet, so fun. 
(Techno girl and boy)

14. Cooked some more—this time, french toast, pasta, and scrambled eggs (my boy was on fire!) (Chef Boy)

15. Created a Temple for the cat god Bast. 

(Architect Boy)

16. Walked the dog. (Us!)

17. Played with Convertbot and investigated how small nanoseconds were. (boy)

18. Read a book about dragons, a book about world history, 

the Book of General Ignorance, and a book about Everyday Life.  
(my beautiful Bookworm boy and girl)

19. Began writing a story about a dragon and a leopard. (girl)

20. Made a beautiful owl bookmark for her mum. (girl)

and finally,

21. Played with an awesome app that altered jazz songs 'til they sounded like pop songs 

(which made a boy and a dad laugh a lot!). 
(boy and his Silly dad)

All on a single weekend. Amazing, no?

The thing is, kids—it was the weekend! 

Weren't you supposed to spend it lying around and 

scratching your bellies and watching the cartoons?

At least for SOME part of the weekend? 

(just like I did when I was a kid?)

Weren't you supposed to be relieved no-one was making you learn anything for two whole days??  

What was the matter with you lot— were you unwell? 
:)

But they weren't, of course. They were completely Alight.

 They were busy and engaged, and so filled with joy.

And I realised: We are on this path now. This insatiable, delighted path. 

Where learning has blended seamlessly into our Everyday. 

Where my kids have no sense of where learning begins or ends. 

It's simply how and who we are.

We are Life Learners.

And we love to learn. We really, really, really do. 

It's deep in us. Kind of unshakeable. 

As part of us as breathing. As real and warm and good as you can imagine. 

Ah. 


Doesn't that make you smile?

I'm linking this with Owlet's lovely
Unschool Monday. Come see!