Monday, March 02, 2009

Marching on the spot

That's what my life feels like at the moment. Every week is basically the same, most days as well. I work. I raise kids. I try to do some craft but dream about it more than I actually do it.

I turned the page on the calendar yesterday with almost a panicky feeling. Time is zooming past, clearly evident when I look at those three youngsters of mine. Every day they are doing something new. Atticus is four now, attending preschool, becoming more independent and assertive. Dante is going to be eight soon. Eight! That's, like, almost double digits. Close-ish. He stands at my chest height. Won't be long before he's towering over me. Eight and full of attitude. Elora turned two a couple of weeks ago. She sings and dances and chats and counts (sort of) and copies everything that Atticus does. And Atticus is doing a LOT more these days, so Elora is learning at an exponential rate.

So they grow up too quickly and time passes so quickly, but it doesn't feel like I'm doing anything. My life (outside of the kids) doesn't change. Work is piling up but I can't seem to knock over that job list. Household chores are never ending. I feel like I'm still in transit. I haven't unpacked all my boxes - the house doesn't feel permanent. We've been here five years, mind you! My wardrobe is still a book shelf because we didn't want to pay for an expensive built-in if we weren't going to be here for too long. Everything feels temporary. It burdens me. I want to feel settled. Comfortable and at home. I don't feel like that here. I yearn to go back to the inner west, to be rid of the daily commute to school and work. And yet I loathe to move away from my parents, for their wonderful support now and for when they will need OUR support one day. I'm torn. Even my job doesn't feel like it's my career. It's not what I want to be doing for the rest of my life, and yet I know that I probably will be. I had/have all these plans but I don't think I will ever fulfill them.

And there's another part of me that's really sad when I realise that this is it. This is my life. There's no going back. Elora is two. There will be no more babies in this womb. It's a hard fact to face.


Anonymous said...

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full? They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous “yes.”

The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things–your family, your health, your children, your friends, your favorite passions–things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. “The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car.

The sand is everything else–the small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.

The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the disposal. “Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of beers.

The moral of this parable is a clear one. First fill your life with the important stuff, the golf balls. Then add stuff that supports the golf balls, the pebbles. You’re allowed to add more filling, and finish it off with a beer.

"Dont worry, Be Happy" Steve

A Sydney Foodie said...

If you don't feel like you are having enough 'you' time, take time out. Say this hour of this day each week is 'mine'. Take your knitting or (hand) sewing to work, and do that in your lunchbreak. Good luck! (and it's not just you).