Life, at the moment, seems disorganized. Even though my house is ridiculously clean, my child is beautiful, happy, and learning so much, and my husband is still - after nearly 6 years - the man of my dreams, my brain feels... cobwebby.
Like I need to get one of those air blowers commonly used for keyboards, stick it in my ear, and have a go.
For a few weeks prior to my trip to California, I was getting up an hour earlier and doing yoga and meditating. Sophie impeded me occasionally, but often she would sit in the chair for a while, drinking orange juice and watching me, before climbing underneath my body on Downward Dog like I was her own little tent.
Around the same time I began my morning yoga routine, I also started cooking all our weekly meals on the weekends. I have found it increasingly difficult to work full time and provide a home cooked, healthy meal for Sophie. She is such a good eater (brown rice and broccoli, whole wheat pasta with blanched carrots) and I want to cultivate this. I missed the last couple of weeks because of the flu and then being out of town. I felt so out of sorts, knowing there was not something planned and easy that I could throw in the oven or reheat on the stove when I came home from a long day. I was able to cook again this past Sunday, and it was a wonderful feeling.
When I decided to give up my weekends to this sometimes massive chore of meal planning, grocery shopping, and cooking, my trade off to myself was my morning time, my hour to be still. I suppose it's normal to, when push comes to shove, take a pass on yourself to better your family. To use that extra hour of sleep to... what..?
I need to remember that when I am better to myself, I am better to Sophie and Roy. When I take time to feel my body and listen to my thoughts, the patterns of the day somehow fall into line.
Tomorrow, I'll set my alarm for 6AM and begin again.