Blogging Myself Into a Corner

Lately there has been a marked hiatus in my blogging activity. There are many reasons for this, for one I have been consumed by some fairly large life changes ( a new home, the impending schooling decision), but also as I have so many blogs, that form in my head day to day, and there is so little time to record them that I end up this this overwhelming pool of ideas, and am incapacitated to start. In the end i write the easiest blog. Often this is the most trite of all of the thoughts going on in my head. I am not yet free to just blog from the heart. Although I have started this entirely for my own records, I can't escape the thought, that some one will read it. even if that someone is just one of my faithful friends, and I am realising now that I really don't always feel like writing something positive. That possibly I am quite morose at times, and that the culture of life with a young family is one of multiple daily frustrations and well, failure's. In the spirit of embracing an new honesty, I would like to dedicate this blog to my husband, and tell a little story about our day yesterday.

For the lsat 2 weeks our 18 month old baby Illia has slept more or less through the night for the first time in, well, 18 months. So from 7pm to 5am Tao and I have slept, enjoying some precious R.E.M sleep, and daring to stay up a little later and take some more time for ourselves. Despite the obvious momentousness of this event not a word had been spoken about it to one another nor anyone else for fear, that if we were to utter it the spell might break and the night trauma may begin again. Despite our cone of silence, the spell did eventually break and without warning Illia woke and screamed in our company from 3am until 5.30 am, when The older child woke and Illia passed out for another hour. Tao and I stood in the kitchen arguing in desperation about who needed to go to bed the most, who had slept the least, had the least space in the bad, gone to bed the earliest, frustration and anger and desperation building, soon it was who had the most hobbies, spent more time away from home, did the most clothes washing and eventually when tao retaliated that had sewing as a hobby (having had just missed five of my sewing classes in a row due to family commitments. I threw a full glass bottle of warm milk at the kitchen cup-boards and smashes it to pieces all over the bench the walls the floor. Tao somewhat liberated from my relinquishing of the normal rules of the game similarly projected not one but two large hand full of organic carrots at the opposite wall, showering fragments of carrots all over the other side of the kitchen.  The entrance of our daughter into this scene of carnage circumvented any further argument as we busily cleaned up the mess and tried to cover our emotion with lightness and an attempt to reassure her, that we were still, in-fact adults, in control of our actions and emotions, not prone to throwing tantrums or unreasonable fits.

Later in the day Tao and I exchanged remorseful and apologetic emails. I cooked a beautiful dinner and head the girls in the bath when Tao came home from work and hour early. We laughed and played as we each wrapped warm wet children into their towel's  one chubby and dimpled and one skinny as a rake and wiggling. We tickled and bounced and played through dressing them in pajama's, their room cosy and reassuring both of us savoring the security and wonderfulness that it was to be all of us. Later as the girls played and we stood in the kitchen, Tao turned to me with a smile on his face and said "So who knew carrots could explode like that huh?". I held him and felt so glad, so relieved, so in love with this man, who is has a big enough heart to keep doing the work that you need to do to live with someone, share the raising of children with them, and to love them when they are good and not so good and everything in between and to just keep coming out loving them even more after all days and months and years play out creating and colouring that most wonderful and convoluted privilege a person can have, a rich and loving family history.

Comments

[Dana]

i hear ya, sister.