About Me

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New South Wales, Australia
I write to make people smile about the craziness of life with small people - because it IS crazy, no doubt. It is also wonderful.

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Happy New Year!

I am choosing to live a life of patience, a life of grace. A life filled with music and silence, laughter and tears, joy and grief. A life of all those things, as well as the space between them. A whole life. To not numb away the things which don't feel good with food, or Facebook. 

Look, I get the whole 'resolution' thing; I've tried it. And I think what causes the inevitable failure of them for me is that they are tied to one specific day, rather than a desire to live a changed life. That is after all, what resolutions are about - the desire to live differently. Which isn't so much a goal as it is a choice. And given a choice, would anyone ever say "I choose to live more kindly, but only for a year?" 

I am also choosing to live life more fully by eating better, and exercising. I'm hoping this will lead to weight loss. A big weight loss. If you're interested, I'm chronicling this over at my other blog, I Love You More Than Chips; I would be honoured to have you join me for the ride. 

I suppose on the 'resolution' side of things, I have two things I want to make a habit of: 
Washing up after every single meal, and putting away clean laundry immediately after bringing it in from the clothesline. 

What about you?

XO, Sarah

Sunday, December 14, 2014

A Box of Crackers

My daughter's preschool Christmas party was last Tuesday. We were asked to bring something to share for a lunch.

I brought a box of crackers, which left me feeling simultaneously impressed and mortified. 

Impressed because 1. I remembered to show up - ON TIME! and 2. I brought food. 

Mortified because A BOX OF CRACKERS. 

Look - I know that it's not about me, it's about the kids. I know that, okay? I get that when it's all said and done, and my crackers are in a bowl on the table, with all the other food, nobody even knows who brought the box of crackers.  No, it's more that unlike the Grinch, my heart is two sizes too big, and because I love people best via food, bringing a box of crackers feels like a pitiful expression of love. I've tried so hard to continue being the mother who makes incredible food, despite having an incredibly busy schedule - and most of the time, I pull it off. This season, with its endless parties, ceremonies, and events - has undone me. I've had to say no to some good and noble things, in the pursuit of balance. Tonight for example, my preschooler was slated to sing at the community carols event. She was tired, I was tired. In fact, we're all tired. So I made the decision to not go, despite this being her first time. I just couldn't manage it. 

I think that's what bothered me about the crackers. I WANTED to make some clever, healthy, Christmas-themed treat to share at the preschool because in my mind it shows just how much I love the staff at our preschool. I couldn't make it happen though. I'm disappointed in myself. 

But. 

Christmas isn't always about fancy. At its heart is a baby. Born amid the bleating of sheep, the lowing of cattle. Love, sent from Heaven, and wrapped in whatever his mother and father could find, just to keep him warm. 

Thinking about this makes me see - that it's not a box of crackers after all. It's a box of Love. 

XO, Sarah

Sunday, November 2, 2014

A Surrendered Life

My husband said last night he was concerned that I don't have interests of my own. Presumably, he meant ones which don't relate to housecleaning, childrearing, or to my status as a homemaker. At first I was, shall we say, indignant? The more I think about it though, I think he may be on to something. I do in point of fact have interests. I enjoy reading, writing, listening to music. I really enjoy creating things, or solving problems. I enjoy cooking, because it incorporates several of those things all at once. I think what is apparent to me, and not to him, is that every one of those interests has had to adapt because of my role as a wife and mother. I sort of wrote about this a few years ago, in this post. But with two more children, life has become more intense. 

The truth is, I don't dwell on having no real life of my own because I do miss the ease of operating without little people in tow. I miss being able to say "I'll do this now", and *gasp* then DOING IT. I miss being able to linger over an iced chai, while reading a book with no cranial merit whatsoever. I miss sleeping without smelling wet nappies, and errant limbs draped over me. I miss sleep, full stop. I choose to not dwell on it, because that way lies resentment and bitterness. I do not wish to burden my heart or my loved ones with such a heavy load; I choose instead to acknowledge the temporary loss of those things I miss most, and simply move on. 

I am so aware of the passage of time these days - 40th birthday, 10th wedding anniversary, children growing up, milestones reached and conquered. With that awareness comes a desire to slow down, to live intentionally, and to not dwell on what has been, but rather to learn from it, and apply it to what lies before. 

Someday, I'll be sipping iced chai and reading a novel, or even writing one. But today, I choose to read parenting books, cook meals which are less likely to be rejected outright, and write Facebook status updates and the occasional blog post. I choose those things, and choose to be content. Because my contentment (and thank you to the dear friend who reminded me of this today!) does not come from the presence or absence of solitude. It is there in all circumstances. I surrender the "me" so that I can embrace this life, this family. 

And this surrendered life? It is beautiful, and so worth every moment of surrender, no matter how hard. 

Like now, when a child just whacked me IN THE FACE with underpants after going to the toilet. I really wish I had made that last sentence up. See? Surrender. Choosing to be content with writing while being pelted with underpants. 

I need to go scrub my face now. :)

XO, Sarah