Life at 41 years, 1 month

I’m up early with the sun as it’s that stretch of glorious mornings where the sun is up early before daylight savings begins. Long are the days of Daise or Harper being up with me, they are so big now, I sometimes wonder where the years have gone and get moments of panic when I think to the future and they won’t even be here, close by. Thank goodness for Maggie I am reminded for the 9357th time.

It’s easy to be up with the sunrise for company and the sounds of the birds waking up for the day and the faint smell of my Daphne’s catching me as my feet crunch on the driveway to take it in, grab a photo. I still can’t believe we live here, that this is our home. That we made this life. Still. 

I’ll get started on some work, try and answer emails, do some writing, set the day up that I know will run away from me as soon as everyone is up. It’s the constant turning up, on the blog, in people’s email boxes, hustling and working on projects that if I stop for too long self doubt will take over, so I push it down, get on with it, keep turning up.

Maggie will be awake soon, a little sing song of “Mum! I’m ready to get up!” Oh that little face in the morning, all crunched and creased as her warm quilt from Grandma wrapped around her. I’ll get another hour maybe if work done sitting next to her on the couch, my office is a couch these days. Soon enough Harper will join us, eventually Daisy, Rob will return from the gym and if I get my act together I’ll be out the door for my own walk for inappropriately loud music by Kanye or the like, 45 minutes of time to myself, the only I’ll get for the day. The cows and trees cheer me on as I shuffle by.

It’s breakfast and homework, nagging to get dressed, lunch making, washing on and out and on again, guitar playing, bed making, fighting, barbie playing, screaming, and vacuuming for the next while as I run against the clock to get the chores done before the girls get out the door.


Calm and order returns at 9.10, well if you ignore the toddler and her angry demands or sadness at the injustices in her world like not having something crunchy to eat. We’re usually out the door to run around, shopping, post office runs, hot coffee bring skulled in between 702 radio listening and kilometres in the car. There’s ALWAYS a park visit, that’s for sure. There’s games and running, perhaps a visit with her cousin to keep her happy. It’s busy and it’s a daily reminder of motherhood. Of how far I’ve come, how far there is to go and a beautiful thing to still be needed like this. The act of playing, being in the moment, it’s a magical, beautiful (exhausting) thing.


There’s time for a rest now for Maggie, some lunch, maybe a sleep, a movie while I return to my couch desk and get through a few hours of work. There’ll be demands for this and that as I race against the clock to get something done, get the washing in and away, washing up done, get that garden bed weeded, that hedge trimmed, those plants watered, that pitch sent, that deadline met and think about dinner…those 6 hours sure go by.

It’s back to chaos and noise, so much food, so much noise, fighting, after school activities, homework, tears, dinner prep, tantrum management for tired 3 year olds and eye rolling from hormonal tweens. There’s cooking, email checking, note filling out, appointment making. The sun is getting lower as it hits the lemons on the table. That light, that glorious light my reminder of where I am in the day.

By 5.30 we sit and stop. Every night (activities permitting) around the table, like we always have. It’s early because of toddler about to collapse but this rhythm that we’ve stuck to is ours and it’s so special. The glue to our tree change all those years ago. Rob will come in and we sit and eat, we talk about our day, we laugh, we think about stuff, we google random things and I nag everyone except Maggie about eating their greens.

While they head to the bath and shower I clean up and wash up, Rob joining me to natter about our days, the end of the kitchen shift in sight I dig deep for the final stretch. Those lights off, wipe down are my favourite, I’ve done it. Again.

Rudie nudie down the hallway, bottoms warmed by the fire and crunchy clean pjs on by the flickering light. Blinds are down, candles are on, milk is warmed and soon enough there’ll be a toddler in bed.

When she’s down I can return to work, grabbing a couple more hours as motivation wanes, tiredness kicks in but dedication persists. The big girls are off doing their thing, Rob back to work sometimes, or out at one of his too many meetings. By 9pm I’m done, laptop away, lists written and diaries checked for what lies ahead tomorrow and a collapse on the couch. I’ll get maybe 45 minutes before I’m done, I’m tired, I’m off to bed, I’ll try again tomorrow.

Sleep comes easily, I know I’ll be up at some stage, Maggie, the dog, worries or thoughts that may enter and take over from slumber before I start again with the sun.

These September days have rhythm and simplicity, they are busy and take up so much space in every part of me, my body and mind. They fill my heart to the brim with their noise and love and laughter and they challenge me with my work and creativity. They are ours, they are mine, and I’m grateful for every single one of them I get to have.

Comments

  1. And what a beautiful place to get to do it all in! Thanks Beth for helping make the normal stuff beautiful.

  2. Life is about the simple things

  3. I love hearing about your day, your gorgeous family and the mundane.
    Enjoy.

  4. I love hearing about your day, your gorgeous family and the mundane. We are looking at buying in or near Bowral in the very near future.
    Enjoy.

  5. Beth, I don’t usually comment on blog posts (usually too busy!) but today I feel compelled to tell you how beautiful this post is! I’ve followed your blog for at least 5 years now and just love to see your posts pop up on my facebook feed. Thank you for a little dash of beauty and inspiration in my crazy, busy days of being a working mum who has not much time to stop and smell the roses (or daphne in your case at the moment!). 🙂

  6. Love this!! You’re so good at finding beauty in the mundane. It’s inspiring! xo

  7. Roberta McKenzie says:

    You write so beautifully Beth, thank you for reminding me to find the joy and wonder in my seemingly boring and mundane groundhog days xxx

  8. What a beautiful and uplifting read. You are a gift, Beth.

  9. Thank you for this – when you are the midst of the juggle / juggle / you can forget there is others out there doing it too x a little less lost x

  10. I just love watching your family grow up. You have a beautiful life.We all do. We get the chance to see another sunrise. Sadly some don’t have that chance. You really are such an inspiration. An amazing mum. If I could I would turn back time to when our 3 kids were little I would. I miss them..❤

  11. Beth you write so beautifully and with such candour. The photos of your gorgeous home and local area always make me smile in admiration. I am so grateful that you keep showing up each day here In this space. I visit daily and always learn something new. I feel like I know you, though of course I don’t but I enjoy your enthusiasm for life and your warmth. You have created a very special place here on the blog. Long may it continue!

  12. Wow, goosebumps up my neck, a wonderful piece of writing, love your blog. Thank you.

  13. this is beautiful,
    thanks for writing here, it feels like catching up with a good neighbour, just that quick pop in share a snippet of your life right now and then back to living it.

    cheers Kate

  14. serpserpser says:

    Ahhh, I do love to read a blog post. Thanks for doing this blog, the art has been lost over the years, I stopped mine 12 years ago after about 10-11 years of writing blogs before that (yes, a time before blogger was even invented), I miss it.

    Thank you for continuing the lost art form, the number of blogs I use to read numbered in the 20s, now they have all but whittled down to just a handful now, most closed down, others tried to commercialize themselves but failed, but I can always rely on Baby-Mac.

    Thanks for all your efforts.

  15. Lesley Minter says:

    Just simply beautiful. Like a warm hug.

  16. Just simply beautiful. Like a warm hug.

  17. You write beautifully. Thank you for reminding me to find the beautiful in this mad motherhood journey.

  18. Thank you for putting into words the mum, work, life juggle. I love the way you write like you are having a conversation with a friend. And your photos are always so vibrant and colourful and a joy to see.

  19. 💙reading your blog you are very entertaining your life is just like mine.

  20. Beth,
    Thank you.
    This is such beautiful writing, you’ve captured something so special here.
    Truly, you bring us into your world with such ease and warmth.
    My life’s so different to yours, and still I always feel uplifted by your blog, and reminded how wonderful it is to get to peek into your world.
    It’s your gratitude, your deep love for your people, your wit and your artistic eye (how I’d love to trawl through your bookcases with a Prosecco in hand) that resonates with so many of us.
    You remind us to live in the moment and keep going when inevitable hurdles arise.
    Keep going Beth. Keep loving and striving and resting and creating.
    ❤️❤️❤️
    Annette x

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