I don't know how we do it

If you can keep the house clean & maintained & get all your work done & keep the kids all sorted with all their needs met & exercise & be a good partner & friend & daughter & give back to the community - HOW??

How?!

How do you do it?

I feel like if the kids are happy, my work is behind and the house is a mess. If the house is clean, the kids aren’t. If my work is going well, nothing else is.

How is it possible that by 9am I feel as if I am already behind?

This balancing act is so hard. There’s so much juggling. Renew my driver's licence, take the dog to the vet for her annual checkup, buy more sunscreen, get new goggles for my eldest, write a piece for this event and that book, buy a birthday present, email back that person - say 'yes' to this opportunity and 'no' to that opportunity, get the school raffle tickets (sell the raffle tickets!), book that appointment, send the Christmas cards, return the library books, read that manuscript and provide feedback, pick up the script from the chemist, get the car’s warrant, scholastic fucking book fair, music therapy, occupational therapy, physiotherapy, diabetes clinic, blood tests, reorder contact lenses online, reorder diabetes gear online, text back to say you can’t do that thing, school photos (when are they?). Return the shoes that don’t fit. Pick up more RAT tests. Order more masks.

Don’t get Covid.

Don’t get Covid.

Don’t get Covid.

Schedule time to be a good wife. Schedule time to call your mum. Schedule time to call your dad. Schedule ‘me time’ that never happens. Because there’s always one thing or another.

Today, I was rushing, when a breeze carried the scent of lavender to me and it stopped me. Right there. Arms loaded with bags.

My nanny had terrible arthritis. We grandkids used to take turns rubbing her fingers and hands with lavender cream. There were at least 10, maybe 15 of us back then. We all wanted to do it.

We would sit at her feet and massage her hands. Her skin was so soft. I remember when I would do this, time would stand still.

We would sit in the quiet. Sometimes nana would murmur ‘that’s lovely dear’ but mostly we would just listen to the birds, the breeze…

Afterward, we would gently kiss her forehead and she would say ‘nanny loves you’. Time was different at Nanny and Pop’s. Pop would be in the garden tending to his broadbeans, or in his chair with the newspaper. Nanny would be in her chair, almost always knitting.

Everything was still there. There was never any need to rush.

Weetbix for breakfast. A sandwich for lunch. Chicken and potatoes for dinner. Vanilla ice cream for dessert. A reliable regiment that all of the grandkids knew well.

I wish I’d been a mother before she died so I could ask her how she did it.

What it was like having seven children? What was it like looking after all of those grandchildren? I can’t see her rushing. But, she must have. She must have been so busy….

The lavender took me back. Stopping me. Forcing me to breathe and remember.

I don’t know how she did it.

I don’t know how we do it.

I don’t know how anyone does it.

My nanny was curious and smart and open to mystery. When I asked her a question she would often say “hmmm I don’t know dear, but one day we will know”.

One day. One day it won’t be so hard.

When the kids were babies I would say ‘this is a season’. I would repeat it like a mantra - ‘this is a season’.

I am back there and I’m here. And I know I got through sleepless nights then so I can get through sleepless nights now. I know this season is so hard. I know I’m giving a lot right now.

And I know it won’t always be like this.

One day I’ll know how we did it. One day. This is a season. And this season is hard. But it is just a season.

I was desperate for a stillness today.

And it came to me in a memory.

I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how we do it. But we’re doing it anyway.

Emily Writes Weekly is my income. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for paid subscribers. You allow me to keep writing. I’m forever thankful.