About Sweetmama Editor
Nadine Silverthorne’s love of journaling began in Grade One with the entry, “I am the greatest dancer!” Two babies (and countless diaper changes) later, she has found her home away from home as editor of SweetMama. Don’t miss her humorous bi-weekly accounts of the joys and pains of working while raising them fabulous.
Fall-ing In Love
silver spoons canada
(Nov.09.09)
Ever since Lucy turned two, I finally feel most of the dark cloud of new motherhood has lifted and I can once again see light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, I see mostly light these days. I am learning (though often failing) to live in the moment and to savour the sweetness of little beings who are growing up all too fast.
On Friday, my colleague Sarah Rogers suggested I take at least one laptop-free day over the weekend and I scoffed. Lagging behind on deadlines, piles of editing and receipts to go through, I couldn't imagine taking time to enjoy my family. Which, of course, made me sad and all "Woe is me."
But then reality kicked in. Most evenings and weekends, while my news editor husband is hard at work, it's just me and the kids. There is really no spare moment to catch up on work other than furtive glances at my BlackBerry. If the laptop is open, they want to play on it. If my mobile is out, they want to use it to take pictures or call Timbuktu.
Guiltily at times, I turn on the TV and feel like I am plugging them into "the matrix," so that I may have a spare hour to prepare dinners or reply to emails. For a while they stare, mouths agape, but the TV does not hold their attention for long. "Play Mom!" they call out, tiny fingers pulling my hand towards a stack of Legos or crayons askew.
So lately, J and I have been making time to go out as a family and enjoy the last morsels of Fall. It seems so obvious, but we so often forget to make a point to take a walk and be in nature -- away from the noise of the city, and from laptops and gadgets. In the forest, their imaginations, like their bodies, run free. Sticks are swords or lasers; daddies are bad guys and mommies are princesses who need saving. We pause to listen to a brook and debate on whether it sounds like it's laughing. We run up ahead and hide behind trees, surprising the slower half of the contingent as they catch up.
When I immerse myself in their world, all I see is the now. Gone are the fearful flu headlines and the line of credit statements. The pile of laundry that's usually calling is on hold and I'm OK with forgetting about it for a morning. The Type A-me is shelved and my standards may drop, but we are, in fact, better for it. The house can be cleaned in the future; I can answer to all who need something from me eventually; but I can't get back these days of pure innocence and joy.
The years seem to be falling faster than the leaves, but I'll worry about that later. For now, I am comforted by the satisfying crunch underfoot and a tiny, raspy voice beckoning me to take off my Grown-Up-Land goggles.
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