Too many cold cups of tea

This week I've decided to try something new - 'single-tasking'- and I can't believe how hard it really is. I've become so adept at multi-tasking, using all the space between jobs to do other jobs, that I've lost all the space, the quiet opportunity that waiting brings.

The idea came to me from my meditation teacher. He talked about space and spaciousness, and how we rarely allow ourselves this space to just be here, now.

I know it's supposed to be more efficient to get many things done within a period of time, but if you consider the inefficiency of a cluttered, scattered mind, then I think multi-tasking may be serving a false end.

There are times when stopping a task part-way through to deal with the needs of a child, or a phone call or any one of a million other minor 'emergencies' is necessary. But not everything falls into the minor emergency category. I've been a super-multi-tasker and thought it was behind my success, I always stop mid-way through a job to do something else. But you know what - that only leaves lots of half-done jobs that need coming back to. And those half-done jobs weigh on my mind, loose ends I need to tidy up.

I start making a cup of tea and, while the kettle is boiling, I begin to unpack the dishwasher. Then the kettle finishes boiling so I stop unpacking the dishwasher and pour the water in the cup. Then, while the tea's drawing, I return to unpacking the dishwasher but I hear a crash and child crying somewhere, so I rush over to see what's going on. I pick up said toddler and kissed his sore elbow better and I notice the random toys scattered about that have been carried off and dumped throughout the hallway. So I pick them all up. Noticing more along the way. And I take them all to the toybox. Then I realise that my tea has over-drawn and is now too strong. I make another and this time, while the kettle is boiling, I tidy up more of the toys that are scattered about. The phone rings and I stop to answer it. Chatting away while I finish tidying toys and finishing making my cup of tea, I'm not really giving my full attention to the converstation. I finish the phone call and carry my cup of tea to the kitchen bench so I can check my emails while drinking it (the kids are quiet and I feel like this will be an oasis of quiet time). But while the computer is starting and my tea is still too hot I tidy up the miscellaney on the bench, making piles and carrying things to where they belong. Whilst putting something in my bedroom I see the washing basket and remember that I need to get a load of washing on. I gather washing from all three bedrooms and sort it into colours, blacks and whites. I put the first load on and, feeling satisfied that something has been done, I return to the kitchen and notice my cup of tea is too cold to enjoy. I pour it down the sink, sad that once again another cup of tea has gone cold. That happens too often. Later I remember that the dishwasher is only half-empy and make a mental note to get back to it. I also realise that I never had a cup of tea, or got to my emails, but now the washing needs hanging out.

Phew, I'm exhausted from just writing about all that but it's a fairly typical extract from my day. So, to bring a little peace to my inner-self, I'm trying to stop myself if I get the urge to move off and do another thing part-way through a job. And I can't believe how in-grained a habit it has become. It's like giving up a drug. I've even told myself that it's ok to just notice myself doing it at first and to step in when I've strengthened my single-tasking muscle. But when I do manage to single-task successfully, I realise that I'm calmer. My mind is easier. And the jobs still get done, one after the other.

And I just realised that I wrote this whole piece in one-sitting. Hooray for me.

Zen and the art of motherhood

As the mother of two boys under three I've been waiting for the time when I 'hit my stride', when I feel that I've got it all under control; like you do when you've been in a job for a while. I thrived on to-do lists in the professional world, on that sense of satisfaction when a task is complted, and especially on that glass of champagne in the boardroom to celebrate a major milestone. But in parenting the feeling that I've got it all under control is rare (if not extinct) and it's dawning on me that whenever it feels all under control, it's out-of-control again moments later.

This drive to control my world may be my enemy. It's always thwarted by one- and two-year old antics: a dropped bowl of cereal coinciding with aa toilet-training toddler who has just wee-ed on the floor and a cat who wants to eat the spilt breakfast. "AAAAAGGGGHHHH!" I want to scream, "Come on, world, why won't you give me a break?".

So, yearning for a better way, I take a deep breath and get on with cleaning things up, one mess at a time. And I get a little insight that I could actually embrace and celebrate the fact that my life is not my own; that me and my kids, my hubby and the cat, we're all in this together.

One of the prime Buddhist philosophies is that there is no 'self', that we are all connected. This perspective gives us freedom from the struggle to gather and control things for our self, which is really just an ongoing source of misery. And so I clean up the mess and look at my children, seeing a part of myself, knowing in my heart that what I do for them I do for me. And I feel that long-yearned for happiness returning, like a shining light beaming into my chest.

Stepping away from the need to have it all under control, from the desire to be a supermum has given me permission to embrace the muck and poo of parenting. LIke my kids, I'm tring to exist only in that one instant, completely outside of time. When the daily moments of chaos erupt, I'm trying to be still and let go of the need to be in a hurry to get to the next thing. And in some way the repetitions of motherhood (the same episodes of Play School, the same books, the ritual of making up a bottle) can begin to feel like acts of meditation, a quiet kind of letting go.

So perhaps the 'stride' we're waiting to hit is not one of having it all under control but instead riding the chaos, embracing the craziness of another day with your beautiful, needy, in-the-moment kids. And hey, we could always celebrate our myriad of tiny achievements with a glass of champagne amongst the mess.

Bugalugs turns one!

Our little Bugalugs has turned one! We can't believe how quickly this past year has gone by and what a little fella our baby boy has grown into. He's a strong-willed, jolly soul.

Here are a few pics of his birthday party, celebrated on a sweltering day with all the Roses and Munns. All kiddies (and a few grown-ups) were drenched and very very smiley ...

The Summer of change

Well it's been so long since I've blogged that I couldn't even remember how to log in! Somehow life just got in the way and now, here I am, months and months down the track with so much having changed. My year of maternitiy leave has officially finished and I'm now back on the work treadmill, catching the train in to the city three days a week. I wake at 5, leave by 6, drop off Braden, sit on the train, get to work by 7:30, work work work, then reverse it all, home, dinner, baths, stories, pack bags for the next day, lunchboxes, ironing, fall into bed exhausted, start again at 5 the next day. I know that most grown-ups with kids do this, but I had no idea how much it really involved. I never really considered all those years I spent travelling, lying on beaches, seeing films, eating in restaurants to be self-indulgent, I thought they were just life. Funny how you don't really know about the other life you will lead later until you get there. Not that I'd change any of it (but I am glad that I have those years of self-indulgence under my belt).









Monkey's having a great time at kindy now (after a few teary weeks). He's become a little cleptomaniac though and his teachers at kindy need to frisk him before he goes home (his haul has included cars, wheels, felt trees, ladders from fire engines, and even a cup of water (still with water in it) carefully balanced in the top of his bag). But he misses Granma terribly. Monkey's having a little trouble adjusting to being a big brother and is constantly snatching toys from his younger brother saying 'no, that's mine!'. But he's a happy chappy and every adventure needs to be reinacted the next day and every thought inside his head comes out his mouth. All day long, and even in his sleep.













Bugalugs is thriving and his new nickname has become 'Bruiser'. He's a good sturdy, confident boy with a great sense of adventure. He's always plodding up the hall looking for new ground to explore, usually with a toy in his mouth like a dog. He's such a happy boy that he's become a favourite at his daycare and I think Granma would adopt him if she was younger.

Oh, and we've opened up our world a little, the light pours in and we live outside on our new deck, here are a few pics of the transformation ...