You see I'm addicted to activity.
Yes, I can't help myself. My husband doesn't believe I'm actually capable of truly relaxing. I will admit that it is a challenge. Even the career I chose is not one that is left at the office, and never really has an end. And then there are the 5 children.
Perfect example was watching a movie last night. I figure most people just watch the movie. This is what Craig tells me is normal. I sewed a button on a school shirt, mended a stuffed iguana, and did some embroidery that I've been meaning to get to. I may have also got up to check on a few things too. Maybe.
Being addicted to activity has it's good points. One is that I get a great deal done in any given day. I generally don't see things as impossible but rather am moving things around in my head to fit additional items in, silently negotiating what can be moved and how much sleep I can really get through to next day on (provided there is enough caffeine). I can do a lot and make use of time well. And my goodness, I can organise pretty much anything.
On the downside: I burn out. Often. I let myself get too tired and push myself past the point I should. When most people say 'no', I continue to say yes, ridiculously optimistic that I can be superwoman. I don't see the signs to slow down, because I don't think I need to. Working harder always feels like it's a choice, even when it is not in my best interest to do so. This leads to a short fuse, being emotional about what other people think (when given rest I could easily brush off such comments), and pushing people away. Worst of all my optimism fades and I'm left with focusing on all I'm doing wrong. My expectations tend to become overly unrealistic, and my family suffers.
So today I did something different. Usually, feeling quite happy, after yesterday's achievement, I would be especially eager to do and accomplish more. Probably something big. Like going through and sorting all the kids clothes. Today however, I resisted.
I chose to do nothing of great consequence. I pottered around doing a bit of this and that. I finished sewing pjs for Henry, but I could have done that in my sleep. Very easy pattern and I'd already done the mildly challenging parts. I did a load of washing, chatted with the kids, tidied and cleaned a bit, checked Instagram, did a little more sewing, and even read. When Craig arrived home I took the kids to the movies and he even cooked dinner!
It was really restful and a nice change.
The real benefit though was that I was given the gift of noticing.
One thing that happens when I'm in super-busy-mode is that I miss the small things. I gloss over the details and the minor comments, because I'm focused on more than one task at a time. At times I can't focus on listening to the end of the story someone is telling, because there is still so much to be done.
Today I was able to notice more.
I was able to just stay put as Henry ooo-ed and ahhh-ed over his new pjs. I watched his smile grow as he checked them over and talked about what kind of pjs I would make him when he turned 10. I didn't miss the long hug, because I wasn't in a rush. Ten. It will be here in no time.
As I read I could hear Jack playing chess with his friend, neither entirely clear on the rules, but muddling their way through, laughing and joking together. I was able to hear a friendship grow. And hear my eldest right in the middle of his growing up.
I stood and watched as Lucy quietly and kindly tried really hard to keep Daisy entertained playing with farm animals, so Daisy wouldn't get up and choose to play with someone else. I was able to feel the crazy you-can-do-nothing-wrong-ever love that Lucy has for Daisy, usually reserved for the quiet spaces of our home, when no one is really paying attention. He patient, loving words and gestures flowed easily, much practiced, and much overlooked; not requiring praise to exist, but rather existing just because.
I was able to see how much Isabel has begun to grow up. I noticed that for the very first time in her entire life, I asked her to clean up and she did. Without a word, no drama, no nagging and no expectation of praise or reward. And as Jack went riding with his friends, she stepped in and led. Patiently stepping up, listening to the younger children, trying hard to help them and invent games to everyone's liking. I noticed that she insisted on helping hang the washing out, and talked with me about the need for change next term. I was able to listen and not hurry her, as she explained that one of her dance classes would have to go, so she could find time for homework and flute practice. I had a front row seat for seeing a little girl, becoming something more. A girl in the middle and on her way to becoming a woman that one day will need to make big choices, just as I do.
Daisy cuddled me more than ever today as she must have sensed my greater availability. Oh how I am grateful for noticing how much her smile widens for me as my arms welcome her into my lap. That moment when she whispers 'mummy' in a completely contented fashion as I hold her close. To not drink that in is to miss out on the wonderfulness of those fleeting toddler years, when emotions are big, especially the fierce, unrelenting love for a mummy.
And to think so often I miss this. I miss it all, getting so much done. The getting it done is important. There is great value in the all that I regularly do. But just taking the time to notice today, really helps me to think about what needs to come next. What do I really value? What is my vision going forward? All questions that need answers, just not now. Not today. Perhaps tomorrow.
Today is just about doing nothing of great consequence and noticing. Just noticing.
What a gift.
If you are following along, take some time tomorrow to notice everything. Pay close attention and only do the essentials. I'd love to hear about what this reveals to you too.
Jen.x
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