These are the days of…

Well, as the weeks go by it seems I have less time to write rather than more. Hello sleep regressions and early teething. I rack my brains for something interesting to write about but I can’t seem to pull it out of the daily practicalities. But then I remembered a post I wrote earlier this year, about a book called Simply Tuesday, and how it talked about the importance of marking and naming each phase of life, and so I decided to write something about the very humdrum, beautiful dimensions of my life in May 2016.

These are the days of small things. Of small people and small ambitions. These are the days of endless plates of pasta for the wee man who won’t eat much else. Except pizza. And cheese. And endless handfuls of grapes. These are the days of fighting an endless battle against his eczema with creams and medicines that he hates, of dressing him in vests and babygrows to limit his scratching. The days when we don’t take him swimming and might not get to put him in shorts for the summer.

IMG_5937

These are the days of new words multiplying on his tongue every day. Of hearing him call everyone ‘guys’, most amusingly when telling the bath water to listen to him and stop running away down the plughole. These are the days of cuddles and stickers and dens and putting out pretend fires every day with the help of the entire cast of Fireman Sam. Of big emotions and amazing comebacks.

And for the smaller of the two, these are the days of gurgles and early grabs, of smiles and dark hair turning blond. These are the days when we never know whether to expect long stable sleeps or waking every hour. When my little finger is the only dummy she’ll take and settle with. When white noise permeates our waking and sleeping.

IMG_5908

These are the days of being in the house and sitting on the deck and gazing at the broken fence and overgrown garden beyond. There are afternoons to bask in the sunshine and chase toddlers down with sunscreen and hats, and hold crying babies and try to fork platefuls of dinner into your mouth while calming and bouncing them.

These are the days of contentment one moment and drudgery the next. The days of a unique and short season with its inimitable but unpredictable rhythm which ends I don’t know where. The days that end with lying on the sofa because it’s already nearly time to feed her again.

These are the days of romcoms on netflix, even the ones I never thought I’d watch.  Of The Mentalist and The Good Wife. Of podcasts that always get drowned out by shouts and screams from small people. These are the days of spending nap time tidying up but never getting anything really tidy. Of baking just to have something to show for myself at the end of the day.  Of writing lists and menu plans to make myself feel I am achieving things. Of a weekly outing on my own to a yoga class where I am the youngest participant and I never talk to anyone.

These are the days of solidarity with other parents who share our small rhythms. Of playdates and improvised picnics. Of endless singing of nursery rhymes and doing actions, even after the kids are in bed, because it’s the only music in my head. Of blind panic in the school holidays when all the toddler groups stop too. These are the days when I walk the toddler up the hill to the childminder with his sister in the sling, and he insists that I carry him too, and so I waddle up the road with a child on each hip. The days when we plead with him to share his toys and to stay in bed at night and to eat something and to get in the car and to wear a hat and to take his medicine and to hold hands when we cross the road. And the days when sometimes we don’t bother (that’s not to say we let him run into traffic).

These are the days of longing for purpose in the world beyond my children (not that there isn’t full and deep purpose to be found in nurturing our kids) and an afternoon that doesn’t involve carrying a baby everywhere. These are the days of feeling spent and like there is so much I am failing to do. Of wondering when I’ll find the energy to talk to the neighbours or even get hold of a compost bin. Days that feel small and never-ending. And then there are days of blissful gratitude for these two most indescribably beautiful kids who are greedy for my attention.

These are the days that will be gone before I know it.

 

facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather

14 thoughts on “These are the days of…

  1. Avril Johnson

    These are the days to be treasured, every minute of every day, as they, too rapidly, drift into oblivion, never to be retrieved.

    A lovely piece of writing, Jenny. xx

    Reply
    1. Karen Kernick

      Those days go by soooo quickly…14,16,18 and 21 tear old now. Used to wet wrap my eldest daughter her eczema was so bad.Days of going to the chemist and returning with a bag full of creams and inhalers. These days are precious but can feel endless. Now am tutoring the children of an Afghan family and there have been no bedtime stories .I taught the eldest daughter to read to the youngest and they are both loving it . You are storing up a wealth of knowledge and wisdom. Went to a to yoga class for a year and tried to be friendly but people were in a “zone”. Your calling doesn’t disappear with your children it matures…thinking of you Jenny with your little ones

      Reply
  2. Mairi N

    Sounds familiar to where we were a while ago. Don’t feel pressured to “enjoy it”! Just surviving is okay sometimes – and quite a bit more honest which is always good and enjoyable in its own way. Feeling for you!

    Reply
    1. Jenny Post author

      Thanks Mairi – I’ve made that my mantra this last week! Even though there are totally gorgeous, incredible moments…there are also terrible ones!!

      Reply
  3. Mirian Ravindran

    Hi Jenny!
    It’s been quite a while! I just wanted to say thank you for sharing, especially what may seem to you to be pointless simple posts. We have toddlers who are pretty close in age and am expecting another. I am constantly encouraged by your drive.
    Keep on keeping on! You’re encouraging and helping a lot of us in a season which can seem so lonely!
    X

    Reply
    1. Jenny Post author

      Ah, thanks, I’m so glad there’s some encouragement in there!! I remember a friend telling me after I had Jesse – the days aren’t all wonderful (!) but there is at least one beautiful moment each day, and that’s a good thing to remember and celebrate!

      Reply
  4. Claire Gardiner (was Hunneyball)

    Beautiful 🙂 long time no see. I’m there too, 22m old and 3m old. It messes with your head sometimes as you love this time, but also can feel slightly trapped and wanting to push the life pause button for a break.

    Reply
    1. Jenny Post author

      YES! I flip between – this is totally fine, and what a gift, and so important to have this time with them, to – argh, I’m dying here, someone give me a break!

      Reply
  5. Amy McDonald

    Lovely way to capture life with the littles. It feels like it will be forever, stuck in the same routines (or lack of them) and then they’re over and life hits a different pace and already I’m homesick for the days when all there was was home (and all the chaos that involves.)

    Reply
    1. Jenny Post author

      Ah, that’s good to hear. There are gorgeous moments that seem totally precious, but I do get restless for the stages to come…

      Reply
  6. Linda

    Beautifully written. The joy to be found in the little things. Bless you for not letting them fly past unnoticed x

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *