This week’s Write on Wednesday exercise feels familiar…write 100% truthfully about any part of your experience…hmmm, I think that is what I do every blog post. OK, occasionally I add artistic licence, put the words in a particular order so they sound better etc., but the content is every bit as real as can be. But anyway, Write on Wednesday, here goes…

I am not sure why my heart rebels so when I am threatened with a day at home, with no work to do, no study. Just me and the little one, while Daddy does over a twenty-four hour shift at work, comes home for lunch, then goes again for another eight-hour shift. Every part of me is protesting inside, when such a day is proposed. Oh no, I think, how will I survive? I had better get to calling people, and making arrangements. I must keep myself and the little one busy for the day.

But why, I ask? Why does my heart rebel so, when in fact spending the day at home, with just me and the little one is so utterly beautiful?

Today the sun shone like it was summer. The air smelt heavy of heat, and the sound of the mower whirred in the distance. We spent the day, just me and the little one, gardening. I pulled up bindiis one by one, while the little one scurried around with a bare bum and red gum boots, filling dolly’s tea-pot with soil, and drawing across the concrete bricks in chalk. Just me and the little one. Occasionally, she would come to me with a: “Mummy?” and I would say, “Yes, darling,” and she would say, “Dodle upa-alotle, dotle, upanupa?”. And I would nod, and agree, and then we would hold hands and sing ring-a-ringa-rosie and all fall down together in a patch of grass where no bindiis grew. And then I would resume digging grass, or plucking weeds, and she would resume wandering around the garden.

We stopped for lunch, and ate sausages and bread under the shade of a tree in the garden. I drank tea, Elfie drank water.

And then we played with toys in the bath, the day’s red soil turning the bath water brown. We ate prawn salad together for dinner. She at most of the prawns. Then she helped me wash up. We read together, sitting side by side on the couch. And we did our bed-time routine, brushed teeth, drank milk etc. until at last, we lay together on the family bed and fell asleep.

Why was it again I was itching to arrange for us to be busy today? I can’t remember, now.

The truth is, it felt wonderful, moving from one activity to the next. Sometimes it was a mummy directed activity, such as folding washing, and at other times it was an Elfie directed activity, such as strapping dolly to the back as if in a sling using a scarf, and walking around the garden. I wasn’t thinking about the next five minutes, or the next. Elfie is such divine company.

Having a child has been a lesson in living in the moment. Of not hanging out for the future visit from a friend, or the time to check my email. As my little daughter grows into a bigger one, we form a friendship, which at this stage is based on silly language, hugs, and kisses. And one day might be based on affectionate, yet philosophical conversation. Here’s to the moment, to my day spent with a little one.

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