one of those days when

....you stand (as still as is possible in a houseful of children) for a minute to try and take stock of your life, but your train of thought is interrupted. By what? Well lets see. Could it be the three children hanging (metaphorically) from my knees, or the table littered with breakfast remains demanding my attention or or or.... Esmé, usually. Seems like some days (read: most) even my thoughts cannot form a coherent shape. Never mind the food waiting in the fridge to become a meal, or the jumbles of what-the-fucks all over the floor waiting to be picked up .... what a magnificent phrase btw! I'd cite it but can't possibly be expected to remember where I read it..... my thoughts too are hijacked and shredded in every which way. I think that makes for the 'mother brain' everyone talks about, the one that makes you feel mostly happy to be a stay at home mother (cos' hey, it's hard to remember any other way of life quite frankly). I feel bamboozled today. I just wanted to read the dreamy piece on Russel Brand (no IDEA why, maybe it helps me feel on top of current affairs? Laughable notion since it's probably the only piece of newsprint I have read - or tried to *sigh* - in about a year). In any case if didn't happen.



Because of several people telling me (read: whining) about the toppings they REALLY wanted on their french toast (chocolate spread studded with marshmallows) instead of the one I gave them (fruit sweetened jam and sliced pear).



Because someone pulls this chair around everywhere and screeches when anything gets in her way. She uses it, and us all to her advantage (with a slight tearing of nerves), all day. Despite her goddess like-ness.





Because after visitors and fun and fireworks I was told tearfully that Halloween was not spooky enough for him. So I feebly set forth to make *more fun*. To some effect. I think this person just wanted excuse to make more spooky things (read: apples, because they are spooky at Halloween apparently, but only when smothered sweetly) dipped in chocolate.











Because the place where the wood stove *will* go, is still empty - more slippery-ness from the builder and the house is cold.



BUT I stepped outside (and hustled everyone else) and my sense of... well, something (perhaps, self) was briefly restored and fortified. I forget how quickly I can feel this good just by being outside for a bit. I can walk so soft and dreamy it feels like being in bed, and well.... floating. It's better than the old old feelings I remember that drugs induced. This is purer and clearer and it doesn't matter that I can't pin down who I am or what I am or even the need to define or take stock of anything at all. None of that matters much. Oh if I could live in that feeling. It's the in-the-moment bliss (now: ITMB) that is so rare and precious... because of the rareness? Why is it rare - because my kids breech in on it? But without them I wouldn't have it, any of this - of that I am sure, because I wouldn't be here right now, the person I am, living this particular life with these muddled but Good feelings.















So the chaos will have to rein indoors, it can, as long as when I am outside the moments of ITMB can stretch and grow and be experienced. Incidentally I read some where that this is why people cite sex as being their favourite past time, I guess one is literally In The Moment...... But back to being outdoors, I am right there, and hugging my trees, sniffing the sharp-joy inducing air and generally rolling in ecstasy through the Autumn leaves (well metaphorically, really I just stand and smile, but I'm really rolling, if you know what I mean.....).