A Walk in the Woods

This is my recent challenge: how do I get out of the house with my 2.5 year old and 8 month old?  It seems that in our house someone is either sleeping or eating and that can make it feel like there is room for little else (other than cleaning.)  But I know how good it is to get out of the house.  How vital.  For all three of us.  The fresh air.  The movement of the body.  The space.  The natural beauty.  So today I decided to just exit our back door.  Not pack any snacks (with the exception of a little nut pack that Lilian carried in none other than a toddler size bunny purse); no diapers or wipes; no big car that we have to get in and out of.

Lilian is used to taking this walk with Matt, but she typically rides in the backpack.  I prepared her, saying that Blair had to ride in the ergo and she finished my sentence, "because she can't walk yet?"  Yes, because she can't walk yet.  And we started out.  And oh, the air.  And the sounds.  I could feel Blair take a nice big sigh; you know the one.  And Lilian had a hop in her step and quickly found a tiny mushroom and an acorn.  I imagined what the world must look like to her; all of the tiny miracles of nature so close to her.  Besides the tiny mushroom, she found tiny berries and ferns and sticks and a cracked acorn.  I knew we probably wouldn't make it all the way to the creak, but I didn't know this would happen: "Mommy, I have a poopy."

"Ok," I replied.  "Let's head back."  And I could feel myself tighten just a bit.  I turned into slow motion survival mode and noticed how much I began rushing Lilian back home; as if something terrible was going to happen to her if she had the dirty diaper on for more than five minutes.  And in this moment of urging on, "come on Lilian" as she discovered yet anther tiny miracle, I realized how often I do this with my children; push them on to the next thing.  "Great, you are dressed!  Now put your clothes in the hamper!...or, great, we have walked in the woods, now let's get home for lunch!"  On and on.  And I know all of this is important: the routine; the responsibility that I am working on teaching, yada yada.  But I wonder if I can drop some of this more often.  Leave it at the door.  And exist, even just for a little while, in their time zone or, rather, be beyond time.  I wonder if I can walk in the woods without an agenda.

Anyway, we did get home and changed the diapers and all felt good from the glorious fresh air.

LAUGH

This morning I wrote two intentions but I only remember one of them: to laugh.

Just as I was putting Lilian down for her nap she said, "laugh Mommy."

I replied, "what?"  as if this was some outlandish request.

Holding Blair (who was attempting to lunge out of my arms and into the crib with Lilian; can't blame her there), I did what was very clearly a fake laugh.

Lilian made the request again, "no, LAUGH!"

So I conjured up a good, sincere laugh.  From the gut.  And she did in return and Blair undoubtedly broke into a smile (although I could not see her face as it was inches from Lilian's.)

And there is was; my little teacher reminding me of what I had wished for.  

Change

 

Wednesday, August 26th, 2015

Kitchen table.  6:35am. 

 

Matt's first day of school.

The bacon is made and the eggs are ready to be put on. 

He is getting ready.

 

I relax my shoulders. 

I am thinking about Francesca getting on the bus in a few days. 

 

I am thinking about how my mornings, my days, are about to change. 

How everything, really, is constantly shifting. 

Some changes are more drastic than others, like the first day of school or my oldest child getting onto the bus for the first time.  Alone.  Off into the world. 

But there is always an undercurrent of change just as powerful as the change that I end up talking about.  Perhaps if I tuned in more acutely to these subtle changes, larger change would not contain so much power - so much potential - to knock me off my feet. 

 

Changes like the quality or temperature of the air; the changing time and sound of dusk; the way the mist moves over the mountain at first light; the way a seven month old studies her hand in wonder; the subtle change of intonation of a two year old or the new ways in which a five year helps around the house. 

 

I have some memories of days lately:

Francesca watercoloring upstairs for the first time while I sift through clothes;

Blair and Francesca falling into sweet sleep on my bed with me;

Lilian prancing through the yard with a pinwheel in hand

And I can feel myself lunging backwards to a stretch of time but, in reality, these were singular moments never actually to be repeated. 

 

The best I can do is be in this day and then let it be free. 

 

*  I try to write morning pages every day (writing that is completely freeform.)  Typically these pages would not be worth sharing (although I often get thinking about a topic or an idea while writing.)  This one I thought was worth sharing as we are all experiencing change right now in our lives with school, the seasons and the many other subtle changes that occur in our lives.  This weekend I found this leaf while I walked through the woods.  The beauty bowled me over as the leaf represented the process of change itself. 

 

*  Check out morning pages at: http://juliacameronlive.com/basic-tools/morning-pages/