I don't think I'd be giving too much away to say that sometimes, being a full-time "at home" mom is, well, dull. Maybe that's not the right word. What I mean to say is the day begins- breakfast as usual. Then its time to get dressed, clean up and start something. Usually an errand or a playdate or an outing of some sort. Then there are the obligatory naps and lunchtime, not necessarily in that order. Then more clean up and encouraging the kids to keep themselves amused while more laundry is done, bills are paid, plans are made for fun some other day. Then dinner prep, eating, more clean up, baths and bedtime. From 5 to 8 p.m. is the real marathon time of the day- the big push.
Going through this day after day starts to feel like a grind. Initially I reacted by running the kids ragged, taking them everywhere I wanted to go, making sure my daily accomplishments were achieved. The feeling that came over me then during a monotonous day was something akin to holding your breath too long under water- deep lung panic. Stir crazy. Now and again I get those moments intensely, but over time (and with significant amounts of meditation), they don't ruffle me; I breathe slowly and carefully until the moment passes- like I'm in labor again.
And so realizing that I'm somehow getting better at surviving, no- thriving through a slow difficult day, I am greatful. More at peace.
But not necessarily content. But then, life isn't perfect, is it?