Time with thoughts

It makes sense that to enjoy the moment with my children, to feel in harmony with their needs and interests, that I would let the laundry wait and leave the dirty dishes. I’m working on that. But where is there time to be with my thoughts? I don’t mean meditation, but I’ll get to that. I’m talking about feeling starved for time to simply plan dinner, book a babysitter, or remember to return the library books. Sometimes these tasks seem impossible when it’s just the boys and I in full swing: playing, eating, reading, baking, drawing, jumping, running, singing, soothing, collecting and comforting.

Funny enough, embracing a little spontaneity has proven to help bring clarity to mind. It’s interesting to see how a break in the habitual daily routine can break up muddled thoughts and offer space for more adult conversation, clarity, planning or deciding. Like too much of anything though, too much spontaneity (or lack of routine) throws me askew. Too many roll-with-it late dinners with the kids means later bedtimes, which snowballs into less sleep, waking scattered, and therefore cycled back into missing the moment because I’m wondering about when and how to plan what’s next.

Enter daily meditation. However brief, I’m discovering a sense of pause from all the planning can do the mind-body good, and how little by little I can fly a bit better by the seat of my pants. Maybe that’s how being open to the moment happens. I think I’m getting how to let go. Or maybe it’s more about staying with it, sitting with what bubbles up to the surface?

As you know, I like lists. And because our kids don’t fall asleep on their own, we take turns laying with them until they’re softly snoring. Finally, I can reflect on the day, or more typically, line up the tasks for the next day or two. These days, this is the only sliver of time where I can think and create to-do lists without interruptions. I’m coming to appreciate that window. Because during the days with my kids, they want (and need) complete attention. And really, who doesn’t?