a day of equanimity

Last weekend, on a sunny Springy Sydney Sunday morning, we headed just a little way north, to our (not quite yet) new home. As I sat on the ferry, alone, crossing the sparkling water, I could hardly wait. The Zimbo and the boykaloikes were already there and I was trying so hard to surrender to the moment. Surrender to the fact that I ended up being an hour late (for a very important date). I tried hard to be in the moment of drinking in the lovely first ferry ride back to the island, since we'd signed a contract on our house. Back to the island. On a very deep level, which I can only hear when I'm very still, I already feel like I'm coming home.

So, anyway, we spent two happy hours there, in the company of the "old owners". They were warm and lovely and I'm so glad to have met them - especially to let them know that they can move on in peace, their home will be received with excitement and gratitude and will be full of loud family moments. Hopefully for years to come.

They showed us how to read the level on the water tanks, how to clean the balcony without dirtying our rain water run-off, what to do with the septic tanks, etc etc. They were open and inviting and generous with their time and space.

Another delicious moment was meeting the next door neighbour. Within 5 minutes, he and I were standing in the back of our two back-yards discussing a communal chook pen and discovering that we'd like the same breed of family dog. There you go. Sign number 101 that we are meant to be there.

The day continued with (kind of) unexpected surprises and those of you who know me well will be thinking that I must have been wetting my pants with excitement... but no. Here's where the equanimity comes in. I have long looked at that word and thought what a good idea but o how tricky! But, I really am feeling it! So much chaos, so much happening, so many failed birthday cakes in a row, but I can still feel my feet (they are a leettle bit light today) and am remaining (relatively, for me) calm. And in the coming week this will be what I aim for. I've got a long way to go, but there's progress.

"Equanimity: the ability to perceive all aspects of our lives with acceptance and patience rather than our usual extreme reactions... the ability to keep calm whatever is happening."

Sarah Napthali, 'Buddhism for Mothers'

a coming of age, of sorts

Well, there's been a shift around here. Based on our experience with our No-no, we did expect it sometime after the fourth birthday, but of course you never really know when it will happen.

Our Choochie has been snuzzling next to or very close to us, every night, for 4 years and 1 month. There have been the odd nights when he wouldn't come into our room, but they were very odd. And in our house, whatever will result in all of the family having the most satisfactory sleep possible, is what we allow to happen. All of the family. That means if one small family member will only sleep if he's close to us, then close to us he's allowed to be. It is much more comfortable if he uses the cot mattress that we keep next to our bed, but we will go as far as one of the adults sleeping in Chooch or Noah's beds if that bed is empty and ours is a tad too full.

Of course, we dream of the day (night) when we are undisturbed, unsquished, un-tapped on the head or elbowed in the cheek or kicked in the nose. O yes, we hanker after it. And then one day, we notice that the blankets on the little bed beside ours are still straight when the sun rises. And again, and again, until it's been a week or two since Chooch has come through, woken us, or secretly slept as close as he could.

And that's when I suddenly realise that he's not quite as close as before. I have enough breathing space to notice, and then to think that four years really wasn't all that long afterall, was it? I have to chase him, remember to ask for more cuddles, remember to hold him close and smell him and remind him that his mama loves him.

Rest asssured, he's not that far away really. He does still ask for many "cuddles on the couch", or nudges during dinner, or forcefully sitting on our laps each day. This kid is warm and loving and demands it of his loved ones. But still... there's been a shift. It's not quite the same as him being close all the time.

Bless his days and nights. May he always sleep well and peacefully, warmly and safely, knowing that he is loved, near and far.