herald

on friday morning, i woke up to a surprise. once again, this little blog of mine was selected as part of schmutzie's five star friday - alongside some truly wonderful and prolific bloggers (including nathan pyle,  whose letter to his son resonated with me rather loudly as a mother and as a woman. i've faved it for later parenting reference).

i am humbled and honoured. i can only express my gratitude to alma who nominated me (again) and to schmutzie, with borrowed words from the bard.

"silence is the perfectest herald of joy.

i were but little happy, if i can say how much."

                         - william shakespeare

the post that was featured is one that i struggled to write because the sobering effect of a hard look at the mirror included the gnawing hangover thud of mothering guilt. i was trying to work out what i felt was a mothering fail.

i've said it before. i'll say it again. mothering is hard - not least because you're responsible for little humans, their health, their well-being, and their early views of the world around them. every day mothering forces me to face my demons again and again, urges me to shatter hard-coded reflex reactions, and encourages me to just be better. and the truth is, i'm not always better. i'm just not.

there are many moments in a day when i feel like a super hero. i feel a surge of pride when the work that i do at the job-that-pays is recognized in some way.  i am triumphant when a meal i prepared from scratch is well-eaten. i am all full-on-whelming-heartening-joy every time a babe sits on my lap just to be there, just  to hold my hand. i even give myself a bit of smug relief when my night time routine included story time giggles and has the kids in bed by 8:30. i feel like a champion every time i'm happy with the knitting.

oh but then my kids watch tv far more often than i would like. i have yet to find alternative ways to channel the urge to yell. i knit more than i clean. i have flaws. and if i was being completely honest, i'm okay with them. because these are things i can change: problems with solutions, choices i can make, things i can do differently. 

and yet, every now and again find myself intoxicated with guilt: mothering, housekeeping, working, loving, friendly, neighbourly guilt. i can't see straight and i sway. buzzed with regret and with judgment impaired, i hear voices that aren't mine until finally, i collapse into a shallow heap. 

on saturday morning, i woke up to 2 simultaneous text messages. a great aunt passed away, claimed by cancer. and an old neighbour, one of my first canadian friends (and my grade 8 boyfriend of 2 weeks, i think) perished in a motorcycle accident. i haven't seen nor spoken to either my lola or my old friend in many, many years. but i feel their loss and deeply cherish their memory. it is my fervent hope that they lived their lives to their definition of the fullest and that they met their passing with peace in their hearts.

i am reminded that despite all the worry and the drama and the noise - real or imagined, pressing or passing, near and far, virtual or in-your-face - to see what i have in front of me, to do what i can, give up the guilt - just give it up, and just live.

this here blog - this public journal i began to practice creativity, where i share photographs and stay in touch with friends and family; this space that i use to focus on the loveluckbliss of our days, has also become the breath that i take to sober up from regret: to give myself the opportunity to look at a blank page and reflect on the possibilities of a fresh start. 'tis a recurring theme.

i truly appreciate the five star recognition, alma - and schmutzie. and to you for stopping by and having a read, whether you comment or not, i thank you for following along. i am humbled by your visits.

this morning, i woke up absolutely walloped from all sides by 2 restlessly sleeping toddlers, unaware of their growing strength. i had a mountain of job-that-pays-work to work through and housework i already know i'm going to avoid. and by golly, there will be knitting. it's going to be another loveluckbliss kind of day.