Listening.

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”
― G.K. Chesterton

A friend read this quote to us after dinner on Monday night. It was after a weekend of delicious, uninterrupted conversation about motherhood, creating, teaching, being. Of my kids having constant companions and interesting new toys.  I felt so full up, energised, ready to grow my children with grace and patience and initiative.
And then Monday came, and Tully's Daycare mum (he goes to Family Daycare) was on holidays. And I had plans to finish my mini quilt. And there wasn't any beautiful teenage girls or toddlers and their toys to make it oh so easy anymore.
So you can probably imagine that by Monday night, with dear friends in my lounge room, this beautiful quote by Chesterton cut right through to me.
I feel like I spend so much time with my kids competing with them. I'm trapped with a million ideas in my head, without the capacity to shape them into flesh. If I plan to use sleep time, chances are my efforts will be foiled. (Just now, as I write this, Tully has come out of his rest time twice, the first to ask for Buzz Lightyear, the second to show me the comfy bed he made for him.) I decided to experiment. For the next week, I'm going to stop and listen to my kids. I'm going to follow their lead, be on the look out for their needs, let them set the agenda and hand over mine. And just see if I get any less done. Maybe I will, but with a whole lot less stress. I'm going to see what I can learn from them and if I can rewind some of this 'growing old.' I felt some of that weekend energy creep back.



Well, yesterday was the first day of my challenge and I woke up with anticipation. I had goals, but I would hold them lightly. The sun was shining, a cool breeze was coming through the kitchen window. And there was enough milk left for coffee. We ate breaky, chatted, tidied up, played with the trains. Then Sharon arrived and offered to play with the kids outside while I got some cutting done. I felt like it was my little gift. A pat on the back. See? I didn't need to fight. Maybe I don't even need daycare anymore. It was afterall only 2 days, and we could use the extra cash. And we were getting along so swimmingly. By the end of the week, I was going to be one of those Supermums, asking Tim if we could have more kids and writing a book about how to parent with half the effort and double the warm feelings.
At 11, we put Evie down for her sleep and put on a movie for Tully so Sharon and I could sew together. But he didn't want to watch, he wanted to hang out with us. That's ok, I said. And he helped Sharon with the pins and made a bed for Buzz and pulled out all my scraps. I started to feel my energy evaporating.
No, it's ok, I told myself. It's only mess. He's having fun.



At 2, Evie woke up and I asked Tully to help me tidy up. By this stage, my scrap box which is like Mary Poppins' carpet bag, was spread from the lounge room to the dining room. I put Evie in her highchair with some lunch and suggested we race her to tidy up the fabric.
"It'll take too long!"
I suggested a game. Find all the blue ones. See how many you can fit in your hands. See if you can fill that box before I can fit this one.
And then, "Tully, you need to tidy up your mess or you'll have to go lie down on your bed." He chose tidying, but he didn't.
An hour later, I was so sick of using my patient voice and I'd run out of things to bribe Evie to stay in the highchair. And about three pieces of fabric had been put in the box. I'd been fun, I'd been firm, and I didn't have anything left. He was sent to his room while I tidied up.
I was so tired and disappointed. And slowly becoming aware that I'd just shifted my goals from my sewing to perfect, agreeable children. My hands were no more open.
Day 2 and Tully has just come out a third time, been told he needs to rest or we won't go to the museum this afternoon, gone back to bed crying and woken Evie up after just a hour's sleep. I'm not sure I feel like being warm and open handed any more! I feel just as old as ever. But I'm going to go get Evie out of bed and give her a cuddle. And try not to think about what is required of me for the rest of the day and whether I'll have enough.
And tomorrow I'll wake up and try to listen again. And maybe at the end of the week I'll have something I've gleaned from the exercise that I can share with you. Or maybe you could share with me, how you develop a posture of living and learning and creating with your children, while maintaining some kind of identity and keeping up with the washing? I'd love to here your thoughts (and encouragement!!)
Jodi. xx