small sets of minutes
it's winter but it's busy
The dog is curled like a fox on her cushioned bed beside my desk, her eyelids fluttering in her sleep. My breath starts to mimic hers - deep and rhythmic - and it’s just what I need in the moment, to slow down with a creature who doesn’t have a to-do list or any bills to pay.
Yesterday I put my daughter’s birthday cake (still in the tin) on the stovetop to cool and someone (no need to name names) turned on the element with the intention of boiling the kettle. The cake burnt quickly and sent the fire alarm into overdrive shortly before sending me into the same level of high-pitched screaming: Open the windows! Get me a tea towel! Turn on the tap! I tried to save the cake for a short minute before I surrendered it to the bin and set about making another one which Marigold later decorated with smarties and freckles and a forest of pink glittery candles that she had chosen herself. There is no such thing as restraint of the sugary or aesthetic kind with the fourth child. It was a happy end to a tiring day.
I’m sure for many of us here, there is a swirling consistency to all the moving parts in daily life. I am firmly in the logistical season of parenthood with two tweens and a teen (and a firstborn who has moved out of home) and each week is a juggle of appointments, activities and rehearsals. There are so many different to-dos in my diary – all items of importance circled with a highlighter so I can’t possibly forget them – and I’ve recently caught myself thinking: surely this shouldn’t feel so overwhelming?