Thankful for Invitations

I was invited to a pre-Thanksgiving meal a week ago and before we ate our meal, our host asked each of us at the table what we were thankful for. "Invitations" came immediately to mind and stayed there. I didn't want to take the time to marinade that thought because I didn't want to miss hearing what the others were saying. When my turn came, I mumbled something to the effect of "Invitations ... like this one" and I added an unrelated thought and was grateful when the torch was passed to the person beside me. I said the word that was in my heart but I didn't add my heart to what I was saying.

I have been rejecting a lot of the world's invitations lately. I was struggling and it was getting harder and harder to find the energy to pull myself out of my safe place at home and into the world. Even when I was being invited into the warm arms of friendship. I was tired. So tired. I was broken and I didn't want light to shine upon who I was because I was so lost. Yet I kept receiving invitations.

Some invitations come out of the blue and all you have time to do is go. No time to think. You just pack up and leave. I had one of those invitations during my summer holidays and I went. I just followed the road and I was there. Exactly where I needed to be.

If I had been given time to wonder and think too long, I would have said, "I'll be there next week". In fact that is exactly what I had said mere hours before my "invitation" to drop everything and go immediately. I appreciate when life has other plans. When I'm busy overthinking something, gathering my resources and pumping myself up so I have the courage to walk out the door donning a mask of courage I don't feel, I often talk myself out of taking that very first step. It is ever so much easier when the invitation is immediate. Come. Now! When there is no time to think, I automatically do the right thing.

Some invitations are so hard to accept. "Would you like to join me and my family for a meal the day after tomorrow?" My initial response was "Do you remember the song from Sesame Street 'One of these things is not like the other. One of things just doesn't belong'? I don't feel like I belong."

But I belong to this wonderful club of "sister friends" who feel like family to me and the feeling is mutual. I believe I have been on a life long quest to collect sisters ever since my childhood. The sisters I longed for were grown up and married before I turned into a real life "sister" myself. My brother was five years younger than me so we didn't connect as a close brother/sister team until I moved out of the city. I've had family my whole life but I missed the connection that "The Waltons", "The Brady Bunch" and all the other TV programs of the 1970's depicted. I was lost but I was found all at the same time.

I have visions of my sisters "riding out on their white horses" at pivotal times throughout my life. Times when (as Glennon Doyle Melton describes as) I was being evicted out of the life I expected to be living and invited into a new (and better) one.

My sisters (those related by blood and those I have adopted along the way) have been there for me, with me and behind me during these times of great crisis invitations. We laughed when we wanted to cry. These life evictions bonded us, as each time we merge at a time of need or crisis we have forged a tighter bond. When you fear the very ground you are walking on is crumbling, it is good to have someone to hold onto. Times of crisis, times of celebration and no special time at all have all been invitations into each other's lives.

When life is comfortable and all appears well, there are often undercurrents of a quiet knowledge that things must change. I'm not good at making necessary change unless I receive a formal eviction. I seem to need the drama that comes with a forced eviction to make much needed change. My eviction notices have evolved into "handing in my notice" as the years have unfolded. It is so much harder to walk away from life as you know it when all seems well. Except when the deepest part of your knowing is telling you to let go. It is a little bit like that invitation you receive two months before the actual event. "So much can happen in two months!" races through my mind at those invitations. I'd so much rather just show up at the last minute.

My pre-Thanksgiving day invitation was a little bit like that. The fear monger which lives inside my head was so afraid to say "yes". I don't belong raced through my mind even though my friend assured me I was wrong. It was an honor to be invited into the arms of friendship and a family where blood ties didn't exist.

I've always shunned those "invitations" I have felt I have received because it was the right thing to do. The obligatory Mother's Day supper, invitations just because I'm my mother's daughter or it is the expected thing to do. This invitation came from a place of "I would like you to join us if you are free". No, but thank you was just as acceptable as yes, please! I was chosen.

We fall into some of our invitations and some invitations are well thought out. I appreciate all the invitations I receive. Sometimes I may not act on them as I should and that is when life conks me over the head with a 2 by 4 and knocks me silly (those seem to be the times my sisters show up out of the blue). I am grateful I haven't been knocked unconscious lately. I'm accepting and declining invitations with a clear head and an open mind.

I'm grateful life is always extending me an invitation to keep moving forward, out of my head and into the world. That is a lot to be grateful for.

P.S. Since I've been on the receiving end of so many invitations lately, I do believe it is time to get off the couch and start sending out my own invitations. I will start today.

A Quiet Knowing - If I Empty it They Will Come

I've been enjoying the peacefulness that comes from living in a house that doesn't feel like a daycare zone. It is a little bit blissful to wander into a living room that isn't accessorized by a Little Tikes kitchen, a "princess corner", along with a wall lined with toys that don't fit into the toy cupboard. I can sit with my back to the ball house (which is too large to move out of the living room without being disassembled) and our house feels like a home again.

Bedroom doors are open, the cats are free to roam (and shed) all over the house again, with the exception of our #1 spare room (having three spare bedrooms is confusing, I know), where the queen guest bed resides. I've been opening up the blinds in the previously unused, closed off rooms and the sun is radiating through the house like never before.

We have so much space around us, it is ridiculous. Thank goodness I still have one daycare daughter to tend. She quite enjoys her new play space, access to the books and full run of most of the upstairs. She naps in the closed off spare room, so while I'm tending even one child I feel like I'm getting my money's worth out of our home's square footage.

I feel like I'm rediscovering our home all over again. As it was, when we first moved into this house I seem to find myself gravitating toward the room that started out as a TV room, then my room, then a spare room, then a quiet room and is presently labelled the "play room":

Notice the easy right-hand access to a coffee table, with the computer plugged into an easily accessible wall socket, with a futon adorned with multiple pillow options to support my back and neck (with a cat at my side which is always a pleasant accessory to add to any room). I grabbed the stool for some foot elevation, there is a TV on the wall opposite the futon and there is absolutely everything I need to create a cozy little retreat. It feels like the oasis I call my bedroom. I'm loving it in here!

I am seeing our house through new eyes these days. It is still in a state of transition and many of our rooms are undergoing a bit of an identity crisis but I continue to feel strongly that our house will soon be much too big for our needs.

I sit here and look at the room I'm savoring at the moment. Once all the daycare paraphernalia is removed, all that will remain is a dresser which contains items that could easily re-homed. The closet holds my income tax papers going back to the beginning of our lives here in Saskatoon. I don't believe Revenue Canada will ever ask me to go back 29 years for some document. In all honesty, all that closet requires is a huge, industrial sized personal shredder. This room could be of a no-name, generic variety in the course of a few short hours.

Our "official spare bedroom" holds some of my excess clothing. Clothes that never made the move to my new bedroom. Clothes that haven't been worn, needed or looked at for a year. A few garbage bags and a donation would clean out that closet in two shakes of a lamb's tail (what the heck is that, my fingers wonder as they type?). It is the two under-the-bed storage containers of memories, letters and sentimental belongings under the bed which may take the better part of a month to sort through. Other than that, another room could be de-personalized within an hour or less (if I just pack up those boxes and deal with them at a later date).

Our third spare bedroom was an appointed "office space" at one time. It holds a computer desk, a closet with a shelf or two of notes, letters and information I amassed while collecting stories for my parent's family's books-of-memories. This room contains all the books I have collected over the years, a filing cabinet which I had planned to fill with the required seven years of income tax documentation required by Revenue Canada, but instead it sits empty under a box which holds every income tax return my dad ever filed. I can't quite bear to rid myself of those documents. "There is a story within those documents" is what my quiet inner voice tells me. I hold onto Dad's paperwork for much the same reason I hold onto my own. It is a timeline of Dad's/my life's work. It is part of how I define myself and remember my dad. It may take a lot longer to empty that room. That "office space" holds much more than documents. It contains Dad's life's work and two family's books of memories. Maybe I need to find a vault to hold what this room contains. It is of no use or interest to anyone else but me.

I have one day to work this long, Thanksgiving weekend. I have another day to accumulate another week's worth of items to sell on my favorite on-line auction site. I have invited my family to come share a meal together under our roof on the third day. Thankfully I am not known for my culinary skills, so our meal will not take the entire day to prepare. So I can clean a little, cull a little and think about how I want to redefine our space within this home of ours.

When the clutter and excess are gone, the dressers and closets emptied of everything that is not essential what will be left? How much can I simplify this life of ours over the course of the next three months? How far can I go? And what am I making room for?

There is not one thing whispering in my ear telling me the answers I am seeking. I just keep looking within these walls of ours and hear "Purge and release"and "Make room for change". If I empty it, they will come ...

I'm living in "The Field House of Dreams". I don't know where I'm going but I know what I must do next. That is enough for now.

Christmas

I'm waking up in the darkness these days, turning on different lights as I walk through my morning routines. This morning thoughts of Christmas and the white light which surrounds Christmas enveloped me.

I thought of two things: "light" and "noise". I am craving calming light and a soothing soundtrack right now.

The very first (and perhaps only) constructive thing I did during my summer holiday was to change the ring tones on my cell phone. I wanted sounds that were calm and soothing to my ear. The factory preset sounds were those of loud, annoying urgency. I softened the tones and felt calmer.

This morning, I noticed how peace enveloped me when lights were turned on in rooms adjacent to where I was existing. Muted lighting was soothing. I felt calmer.

Artificial light and sound feel too harsh for me right now. Sunlight, moonlight, starlight, lights in a distance are just fine. I find the lights within the kitchen too harsh, so I turn on the light above the stove or the light in the entrance ways instead. I am amazed at how much that soothes my ragged soul.

Last night, I got a text from one of my parents who found a new daycare. I was terrified to read it. I have lived this week #1 of Quiet Daycare Existence in fear that the new daycares my charges have found have not worked out and I will get an unexpected "SOS" from one of my families begging me to take their children back until they find a "better fit". I should not have been surprised to find out that I was the one who was the bad fit for these children. The mom who wrote me last night told me their children are doing great at the new daycare so far. "It's a great fit." Which makes me fearful I am not the best person for the job of tending the last daycare child left standing (which I confessed to this parent first thing this morning and she assured me they were content with the daycare arrangements as they stand).

As it is with "Christmas", the white lights and the sense of giving ... on the flip side of finding the perfect gift for one person, you fear that the other gifts you give may pale in comparison.

Also, as it is with "Christmas" I seem to be torn in what direction I need to turn first in the gift of this time of newfound quietness. There is so much I want to fit into this season of my life. I must first learn to trust it will last as long as it needs to last.

I have found the time and space to bring "Glennon" and "Brené" back into my world. I read Glennon Doyle Melton's memoir "Love Warrior" in a day. A day! Unheard of, for me (the one with the attention span of a gnat). The next morning, I went back to the online course "The Wisdom of Story" (with Glennon and Brené Brown) I had all but forgotten. Their words were meant to come to me right now. I feel a healing balm soothing my ragged soul.

My first week of living a quieter life hasn't been what I expected. I'm not sure exactly what I expected but it wasn't "this". It wasn't the week I just lived. I've coasted. I haven't worked, I haven't accomplished anything, I haven't found the quietness yet. But Glennon and Brené are showing me a path. A path only I can choose to take. One path that may or may not take me to exactly where I need to be.

"This" is not where I expected to be at this junction of my life. I thought I would have figured things out by now. But I'm still searching, still seeking, still craving. Something. I'm not sure what it is but when I find out, it will be a gift.

Merry Christmas. As if I needed to be reminded of the season I am headed towards, Mother Nature sped things along for us here. This is our new world at the moment. I wasn't quite ready for it but it came anyway. Life is a little bit like that.

Winter is Coming

The risk of living on the flip side of the low grade blues I have been feeling for the last long while, is the euphoric side of that very same emotion. With every new bit of hope, excitement, idea and sense of happy which I feel, I feel cautious. Don't feel too good. Keep a close eye on the manic side of a depressive state. Enjoy the moment with caution. Keep grounded.

I am sitting here, enjoying my quiet morning hours with my second cup of coffee in hand feeling the desire to simply coast for just a little while. Maybe a day. Maybe two. I'm revelling in the fact that my ambition level is growing but I long for silence, solitude and those moments when the quiet sense of "knowing" starts to enter my consciousness.

I feel more present and accounted for, in my role as "mom". I'm sitting on the sidelines, listening to my children look towards their future and set their sights on something "beyond where they are" and I am silently cheering, hoping and encouraging them onward and out of the plateau they have reached.

A plateau. That is exactly where I feel I am. It is safe here. I can sit still and enjoy the view. I'm at a point where (I hope) the hardest part of the climb is behind me. Yet I look up at some of the terrain ahead and feel pretty ill equipped to conquer the climb which is yet to come. It is best not to look that far ahead. One doesn't know what lies around the next corner. It could be a slippery slope but it could just as easily be a scenic path which still takes me where I am going.

The fear of the unknown. It is easier to take those first, hard steps if you feel you are standing on solid, familiar ground to start with. A safe place to fall. A sense of feeling grounded.

I am two days into my three month work slow down. I don't have to define my path quite yet. I will keep "feathering this nest" and work on becoming grounded. I will allow the dreams to waft in, out and through my consciousness. I will allow myself to believe in a world which is filled with possibilities. I want to become more of who I already am and grow. I need to grow.

My root system is strong. I feel like a tree which has been stripped of its leaves right now. I'm hunkering in for the winter. It snowed last night and I woke up feeling just a little like the day.

Winter is okay. Winter is only a season. New life follows winter. I'm hunkering down, battening the hatches and ready to weather the unknown terrain ahead. I just hope for enough plateaus, blue skies and clear sailing to enjoy the voyage instead of fighting the whole season in survival mode.

"Trust you are exactly where you are meant to be." These are the words that keep coming back to me when I start to waiver. These are the words that sneak into my consciousness in between the purging and releasing. These are the words that assure me when I wonder "What in the world are you going to do next?!"

I am not walking into this winter season of my life feeling complacent. I feel anything but that. There is an undercurrent of ideas, thoughts and far fetched plans pelting at me like sleet against a window. I don't want to be driven by those forces. I will wait. A soft, welcoming shower will replace the cold, harsh frozen ice I feel on my face. The rain will come. Spring always follows winter. I am exactly where I am meant to be right now.

Purge and Release

It is the day after yet another successful on-line auction of "kid's stuff". It is yet another update on where I am in the saga of de-cluttering the excess of my daycare assets. I sat down and started culling through our basement full of toys on September 5th. By October 5th, all recent purchases should be picked up and paid for. Net total for one month of selling? [drum roll, please] $798.50. Have no fear. All profits to date have been deposited safely into my annual expenses/in-case-of-emergency/home maintenance/holiday(??) savings account. I'm feeling richer by the week.

I must have peaked by now. Surely to goodness that which I list for sale from here on in will not net such a tidy little sum. But do you know what? I have become just a little bit addicted to finding good homes for our belongings. It brings me great joy to not only re-home our well used toys and child tending gear, but to earn a tidy little profit (not really profit when you deduct what I spent to amass this great "wealth") while doing so.

The question is becoming "How much more can I minimize our life?" How deep can I dig? What do we really need now that our family is down to two humans and two cats? Do two people really need five TV's, four computers, a 12 piece setting of dishes, two fridges and a five bedroom house?

I woke up in the middle of the night with thoughts of emptying out the kitchen cupboards, painting them (inside and out) then only refilling them with what we actually use. That became too big of a task to take on in the middle of the night so I turned my thoughts to emptying out one room, purge the excess, paint it and replace only the bed, an empty dresser and perhaps the desk. Maybe I could rent it out to a student ...

One bedroom at a time. Purge, paint and fill it with only the barest of necessities leaving no trace of my personal self behind.

I am one day into my "time of great quiet" and the deep, knowing voice inside of all of my thoughts, emotions and rational thinking is waking me up in the middle of the night telling me to purge and remove my essence from that which is emptied. Purge and make room for change. Purge and move on. Purge and move out. Purge and move into a tiny house in my own back yard and rent out the main house. Purge and release.

Live small. Minimize expenses. Maximize experiences. Make room for quiet. Reduce the work load of cleaning by having little to clean. Make room to dream big.

I feel like Kevin Costner's character in the "Field of Dreams". Make room for it and it will come.

The Quiet - Day 1

I have been so busy revelling in the day and taking full advantage of my ability to be flexible while tending one child that I haven't found time to sit still and write. It is now nap time in this daycare for one, my one child is sleeping soundly and this moment is mine. Let me savor it out loud.

First off, I had a restless night and for some reason couldn't fall back to sleep when I woke up in the middle of the night. Instead, I fell asleep within the last hour before my alarm went off at 5:00 a.m., so do you know what I did? I just kept on sleeping.

Miracle #1. I slept in and got up when I was good and ready. When I looked at the clock, I was delighted to discover I still had 2-1/2 hours at my disposal before my daycare daughter arrived. Her start time is an hour later than when everyone else arrived. I get a bonus hour in the morning. So far, I'm loving it!

My little girl wandered in and the first thing she noticed were the books which I had placed back on the book shelves. Books have NOT been respected or treated properly within this daycare setting. I have tried, tried and tried again. "Books are NOT toys!" Book hoarding, standing on books and using a book for any other reason than reading grates on my nerves. So I kept putting the books away. I brought them back out today and it was a delight to watch ONE child take ONE book, read it for a while and then exchange it for another book when she was finished with the first.

Then, she asked to go to the bathroom. Without three other warring children in my midst, assisting my little not-quite-2-year-old with her bathrooming needs was quick and easy. The last time we tried this, I believe I had two other children swinging from the chandelier while my back was turned. I exaggerate of course (I have a ceiling fan, not a chandelier), but you get the point. I made the grave error of flushing the toilet for her while the others were screaming for attention and she did not get rewarded properly. This morning? She had my full attention. It was a little thing but it was so big.

While she was in the hallway, she happened to notice the open bedroom doors. Doors could not remain open in my previous daycare world. No matter what I tried, no matter what the ages, no matter what combination of personalities were here, if children were out of my line of sight "bad things happened". So all doors remained closed so no one could wander out of my sight (it is no wonder that everyone's dream home "must have list" includes open concept - children must be watched. At all times). My little girl peeked in and glanced at me as if to say "Did you know this door was open?", to which I nodded and said, go on in. It's okay. You can play in there. Well! It was like Christmas in October.

My little girl played and played in her little doll tending oasis. I grabbed a cup of coffee and joined her. Jet came in to join us and he was treated to the same TLC my little girl was generously doling out to her dolls.

We were just stepping out of the play room and thinking about making some toast when my little one discovered the "library" of kid's books within easy access. The good just kept on getting better!

I wish I could say her early morning habit of "one book at a time" and putting her books back on the shelf where she found them remained intact. But she was happily singing along to our rainy day music book while I made our toast, so who was I to complain?

Our original plans included going for a walk but my son dropped by with coffee in hand so we forfeited those plans for the morning. The novelty of having a daycare zone resemble a home instead of having so many areas off limits made for a sense of newness in the air for my little girl, so I relaxed with the idea of simply going with the flow of the day and revelled in a good visit. We will walk later.

Having only ONE pick-up time (and a pretty stable one, at that) to work around means we can actually leave the premises after nap time. Having only one mouth to feed made it pretty easy to whip up a quick lunch. Clean up was a breeze, "bathrooming" for one is quick, story time could be as short or long as the moment dictated. Then when it came time to go to sleep, it was as simple as putting her to bed. No staggered nap times; no one who was awake throughout quiet time; no pussy footing around the one who always seemed to wake up crying. "One" may be pretty easy on me.

Except they do say "One is the loneliest number ...", so this could get a little trickier as the days go by and she realizes her friends are not coming over to play. One could prove to become a challenge on an ongoing basis. But for today? It feels pretty darn incredible.

I'm savoring this first day of quiet. I can't believe I'm getting paid for this!! The hourly rate isn't too high, so maybe this is pretty believable after all ...

The Quiet is Coming

It isn't really going to hit home until I start living through next week, but this is "it". This is the beginning of my time of great quiet. I sat still for a moment just now and heard all the ideas that have been popping into my head lately and I think I just may sound like a raving lunatic. Maybe I am. Maybe this is why my life has headed in this quiet direction. I just need to be calm, quiet, settle into this and see where things go from here.

The wind up of yesterday, my last day with three of my four daycare family was pretty anticlimactic. Thankfully we were all on our pretty good behaviour and we spent the day in a light and easy manner, doing some of our favorite things. When we got home from our morning adventure, everyone slept. Everyone. Even my little 3 year old girl who has been fighting nap time since she was a year old slept (she napped three times this week). We barely finished our snacks and parents arrived to pick up their children. We said our good-byes amid our plans to keep in touch, gave our mutual thank you's, wished each other the best and the door closed on that era of our lives together.

All I was left with was the remnants of a daycare to deal with and my work day was done. It took what remained of the evening, but I have dismantled all that I have erected and revised since my newest 1 year old joined our midst and I was spent. I was done. I was so done...

Jet thought he found himself a new cat bed when I set up this playpen in the middle of the living room so I could clean it up before selling it.

I woke up this morning to a clean slate. I don't have to work today and the hard work is behind me. All that is left to be done is to deal with (aka: sell) the excess and continue to wade through all I have collected within this house of ours over the course of the past few decades. I think I'll stick to the accumulation of daycare wares for the moment. It is enough for now.

I wandered through the kitchen this morning and mused over the idea that I will have the ability to wash the kitchen floor after a meal once again. Back in Daycare 1.0, I quite often not only swept but washed the floor after lunch. What a difference a generation makes! I have barely had time to sweep the floor more than once a week. I cannot even remember the last time the entire floor was washed down at once.

I sat down in the living room and marvelled at our new reality. Our house looks like I'm on holidays - NOT running a full on daycare. Yes, I still have a huge "ball house" set up in the living room. That house gets more play time than any other toy I own. It will remain a fixture in the living room until my daycare days are done. It is too big to get out the door, so it will have to be dismantled. Unless I decide to leave it set up for Jet.

Jet loves "all things daycare" - kids and toys included. He is going to be sooooo bored when our house becomes too quiet. I'm considering getting him a kitten.

The kids and I went for a walk to the pet store yesterday as part of our outing. We found a cat. I want him so badly. I know it is insane to think this way but I am having a hard time talking myself out of it. So far, so good. But I would just like to borrow him for a few days, to see how he would fit in our world. Exit "Daycare Lady" and in comes "Crazy Cat Lady". 

This is "Jax". He is up for adoption (for the cost of a donation!) at our friendly neighborhood pet store. He LOVES kids, is so playful, cuddly and he purrs. At least when he is meeting someone who has the potential to spring him from his cage.

It has not yet sunk in that I do not have to hoard the quiet and my energy quite yet. I have been given the gift of a two day weekend at the onset of my life as a daycare provider for "one" child. That is barely even a job. Yet I have this overwhelming feeling of needing to hold onto this moment tightly and not let it go. 

I'm ready for the quiet. I really am. I just have to trust that the serenity of the moment is going to last for as long as I need it.

This is the moment I'm in right now. I hope it's here to stay (or SHOULD we adopt another cat??)