Taken at the baker of Bellville's castle.
A day with the kids, and about 100 other homeschoolers - running with swords, in costume, listening to Canterbury type Tales, playing with dogs, climbing, laughing, painting, getting wet in the mote.
With all the kids occupied and my mother there to push Maximus around in his stroller I got a little time to myself to think and plan. And see myself. What I need.
My life is not all about me, but sometimes I need a little of me. Sometimes I wish that I had two days for every one day. One where I could be the housewife and indulgent mother, soaking up the largeness of my kid's world. The other where I am me, sitting in a coffee shop reflecting, praying, writing and remembering.
In reality, these parts of me have to co-exist. My daily life is a process to make it so. I am so tired of not feeling like I am getting the balance right. I want to let myself see that I really am okay, I really am there, that this is it - this is what it looks like to be a functioning Christian artsy mother, but I cling to the self angst that has been so familiar for so long, looking always with a critical eye.
Can I even know how to live without it? The angst I mean. It is almost scary to let go of it and allow myself to appreciate where I am. To be satisfied with where I am, now, today. I think I fear that if I am satisfied then I won't progress. But really, I am still as ambitious today as I was, but now my ambitions for myself share time with my ambitions for my kids - for my kids to be wonderful, God fearing, happy human beings. Again, back to the me and my mothering. The balance. The co-existing of parts of myself. And round and round I go. It is hard being the daughter of a psychologist, analysis is in my blood and I think, my generation. Ladies, we are getting older, let's agree to call quits on the self war and finally be enough. Oh, I say that but I know I won't commit.
spill here mother
a blank page
that frightens the fool
quench me with your color
lines and hopes
find in the curves
put on the shelf