a little nighttime

I find it ironic that my last post was about a pair of skirts that I had sewn for lazy days. Here I am nearly two weeks later and not only have I not had one opportunity to sit at that sewing machine again but I have also not had one lazy day since writing that post.

Life is cyclical isn't it.

Of course it has been nothing horrible that has been filling my days and keeping me from lazy days spent sipping lemonade and wandering outdoors, just simply life and the living that is to be expected when one is

managing a home with three children, homeschooling, working part-time outside of the home, working hard to carve out free time to be with her husband after the children are asleep and serving as the birth doula for our inner circle of friends and family (yes, I had a wonderful, surprising birth that I attended this past weekend with a dear midwife friend who's babe decided to come four weeks early).

I guess you could say that I am tired. And when one is tired, particularly as a mother, there are no lazy days to be enjoyed. It is truly ironic. The more tired one is, the harder one has to work to maintain the status quo and work to simply survive. You end up never pushing past that threshold of good enough or it can wait 'till tomorrow in order to be able to justify those lazy days to enjoy in the first place. Strange.

There is a delicate balance between remaining firmly grounded in reality and finding the strength, patience and courage to do what is needed each day to meet the needs and wants of those we love in life and that of allowing oneself a little room for distraction, a chance to create, imagine, daydream and dawdle over the beautiful (and not always practical) things in life.

In a perfect world, all of this living would be able to take place on the same plane, at the same time, in the same place. But, unfortuanately, I am one of those people who really cannot let down and exhale until all of the day's work is behind me. I immensely look forward to nighttime and relish the time spent in my home during the hours after my children have drifted off to dreamland.

I have really come to savor this time when my house is quiet and still, the time when I can wipe my counters clean for the day and tuck my sofa's slipcover in and know that it will not slide or stretch until (at least) morning. I appreciate this opportunity to start a good book and get at least a few chapters in without having to put it down and switch gears or meet a need, wipe a face or peel, core and slice an apple for one of my children. I have come to expect that any writing and reflecitng will only happen once the sun has gone down. I have grown to depend up this time as a chance to regroup, recharge and reevaluate. I see my quiet nights as an opportunity to focus on and appreciate all of the tiny miracles and abundant living that took place right before my eyes during the light of day.

And in the end, my night makes my days possible. Sometimes all I need is a little nighttime.