spring : a new kind of normal

I've just realised that for the time being, I'm never going to get to the bottom of my list. 

For the past few weeks I've really struggled with my lack of time. I've wondered why, at this point in my mothering journey, the professional opportunities keep arriving in abundance. I have tried over and over and over again to get to the point where my work is done, the house is clean and I can just sit with a cup of tea. It hasn't happened, I haven't come close.

Yesterday Che received a letter from his new school, detailing dates and times for orientation and I sat bemused trying to fathom where five years went. As he asked Daniel about buddies and canteen and wide-brimmed school hats I reminisced about his birth and his blonde curls and his love of the stars.

Today I went to the shopping centre and there were Christmas decorations and 2013 diaries. But it's only just spring. If I stepped outside tonight I would say it was still winter.

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Since reading Maxabella's post last week I've been thinking about my normal. I said to Daniel: "I spend so much time trying to get back to normal - I should just accept that 'juggling' is normal." The revelation. 

So, instead of wallowing in the unproductive days and the long list of to-dos, a few things have changed. I'm listening to my own advice and reminding myself to be here now. For now, just be here. I've declared 4:30pm 'play in the garden time' for Daniel and the kids so that I can cook in relative quiet (I do quite enjoy it). I have accepted that although I could work seven days a week, I can't and I won't. I'm revelling in the slow and steady spring clean that's happening one drawer at a time. And if the decluttering falls into summer, so be it. 

I'm also accepting the fact that Che will start kindergarten next year and it will be wonderful. But because I am his mum I am allowed to cry every time I drive past the school gates, every time I think about him in a too-big-for-his-head hat, every time I smell wattle, gumtrees and vegemite; the scent of the playground.