When doing Nothing is Really, Something.
"I spent my day doing nothing," I jotted down in my journal.
A tad frustrated, a bit mopey, with some guilt that I was taking the five minutes away from my two youngest (leaving them to my oldest) to write about how much I just needed a moment alone. My Aries toddler is in a biting, hitting, scratching phase like none of my other kids ever, and to be fair, I'm not feeling very good at this. My surmounting frustration at his surmounting frustration has really, really gotten under my skin and into my head.
It's the first time in almost 18 years of parenting that my business is sustainable and flexible enough that I get to feel like a real stay-at-home mom in the sense that I can enjoy it equally as much as I worry about sustaining it.
I have, exactly what I wanted.
I guess though, I thought every time my kid bit my ass from behind, I'd lovingly remind myself he's a baby who's frustrated, and that if I just get on the ground with him, he'll guide me to exactly what will soothe him. And I guess I thought that every time I reminded myself that, I'd just get on the ground and do it and drop everything required to make the whole wheel turn, to tend to a spoke.
And I guess I thought, I'd do that with ALL four of my kids at the exact same fucking time, like Medusa's snakes all directed outward while Medusa stays central.
It's my family day. A day of the week (of which I take a couple) I keep my work schedule clear for. In ways, being able to do so makes me feel like a “spoiled brat.” Any allowance for ease or holding high the value of quality time, was looked upon as laziness where I come from.
I woke up and got a massage, which is an extraordinary feat in my household.
I came home to a kitchen full of excited-to-see-me rowdy kids, ate fresh salad from our garden, weeded said garden, and when the baby was unrelenting about his desire to lay down and nurse for an afternoon nap, I laid while he slept on my chest and watched a bit of a documentary while I held him.
When the baby woke up, I took the two littlest to play at a local water area and to the bakery before, on the way back to the play area, my two year old had yet another epic tantrum that we left because of.
I came home, made dinner, and desert from the berries we foraged yesterday. Ate said dinner. Cleaned up said dinner.
All the while nursing on demand, and usually warding off a toddler pulling my dress down with his teeth trying to get me to hold him while the dog needs water, the kids have requests or talk back...yada yada.
So as I write that I've done nothing today, I recognize the self judgment in my frequency. If I haven't worked harder than physically sustainable, or produced something to “prove” my worth on any given day, I end up journaling that night that I've done...nothing.
I felt insulted when I'd seen it written out. As if Creator was looking at me through my own words and going..."wow, you really missed all the wonderful somethings your day produced today."
I couldn't believe I'd judged the things at one point I could only dream to want to experience, as...nothing.
My miracle of a massage, nothing. My sons head, still safe surrounded by my heartbeat on a hot summer afternoon nap in the cool air, nothing. My contribution to my garden, nothing. You get my point.
My five year old ran, so excited when I walked in the door to greet me today, like she would've when she was three.
Now that...was something.
It's incredible what a shift in perspective can do.
I did a lot today. Just because it wasn't hard, just because I didn't grind myself to the bone, or make money doing it, doesn't mean I need to devalue my day, or the experience of myself as a being...in it.
It's a lot of "something" that led me to a journal frustrated because my day didn't pay the bills, brought more pleasure than pain, and I didn't suffocate myself just to breath in it, but, I devalued it because it produced only presence. This is so ass backwards. But, if you're my people, I have a feeling that you can relate. Presence is the currency, and yet, I devalue it when I get scared, I didn’t produce for tomorrow.
I didn't sit down happy with myself that I got to do "nothing" all day at first.
I sat mad at myself for not doing something more "meaningful..." when all the while from my daughters perspective, me walking in the door, or from my sons perspective, my willingness to lay on the couch with him to ease him into sleep, means...everything.
Let's not devalue ourselves in our contributions to the relationships we serve all the days we call the many somethings we did with the people we love...nothing.
Flipped on its head, I'm so grateful for the ease of all the beautiful somethings I did today. I'm not mad at myself when I'm willing to receive.
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