Here we are hurtling into spring, having survived another Book Week for the year, children taller and spindlier but thank goodness the Harry Potter cape still fits. Book Week never seems to come at a convenient time for me which is probably more a reflection of my anti-craft mindset than anything else. Come to think of it, late-August is when we’re well and truly done with snotty noses and school germs, waiting impatiently for the reprieve of spring so it seems fitting that I’m always wearing some sort of weariness when the costumes come out. Even the fact that I’ve written a book about my family, hence my kids can go as ‘themselves’ (my most brilliant mum-hack), the thought of all the expectations and obligations of any kind of celebratory week makes me recoil.
Expectations and obligations define modern motherhood, don’t they. Even if you’re not a mother, the world has expectations of you and these expectations force you to look outside of yourself, instead of tuning in to what you inherently need. These outward pressures are insidious and persistent and they rob our attention, distracting us from ourselves, from what matters. No wonder we’re tired.
The next few months are incredibly busy for me, in a way that life hasn’t been for quite a long time. I can feel the pressure rising, obvious in the notes in my diary that track family to-dos and the handwritten reminders on the wall next to my desk that are keeping chapter outlines on track. I don’t think I’ve ever juggled motherhood and creativity/work like I am right now; many balls in the air, concentration required at all times. It’s mentally challenging to be in this space and yet all the groundwork I’ve done in the past few years has taught me how to navigate this stuff. I know what to lean on when the stress is visceral, I know what to let go of when the diary is too full to see the forest for the trees, I know what I need to prioritise so I can keep a clear head and an energised body. I know I’m not a machine and that in times like these, conscious downtime isn’t just important, it’s vital.
Busyness isn’t a competition I want to take part in and I have some semblance of control over how I spend my time over the next few months. What I don’t need is a cup of tea spilt over my laptop (it happened on Tuesday) but also, sometimes life steps in to stop you in your tracks; forces you to slow down a bit and take stock. And as I watched the milky tea drip from the keyboard as I hung it upside down while simultaneously turning it off and yelling for someone - anyone! - to bring me paper towels, it made sense that it was happening in that moment. Because I could feel the pressure rising and the bubble had burst and it was time for me to sit back and reevaluate. The good in the bad, the lessons in the most inconvenient happenings, the tea soaking under the ‘y’ key.
When I feel most untethered, I return to the list.
This is the list I come back to because it helps me regardless of where my head is at. I rely on these things, find incredible comfort in them…they’re my nonnegotiables for maintaining stability when the wheels could fall off at any given moment. They are practical for both family life and creativity, the two things that live side-by-side, sometimes on top of each other, vying for attention and time, pulling me from opposite directions. I could quite easily let this list fall by the wayside because when time and energy is stretched, it’s hard to prioritise what you know is good for you. But when you know what’s good for you, you’ve got to lean even deeper into those habits because they prevent you from unravelling.