After a timetabling misjudgment on our part with That Guy's work roster and a reshuffle on work's part with shift times, I ended up having to keep everyone awake so that I could bundle them into the car in the rain at twenty to eleven to go pick him up, which lately, as Ly welcomes four new teeth at once, is not as big a stretch as it might sound.
As a consequence, and to ensure everyone in the house got an adequate amount of sleep, the spoodle had a sleepover in the mancave with That Guy. I sneaked into the retreat before the children awoke and left a couple of 'surprises' so they wouldn't be disappointed on their morning 'treasure' hunt for spoos and spees... No, not really. We all know I'd only be hurting myself.
In the absence of their customary early morning spoodling, the children slept late. This is how children (and cats) appear when they are allowed to sleep unspoodled.
As a consequence, and to ensure everyone in the house got an adequate amount of sleep, the spoodle had a sleepover in the mancave with That Guy. I sneaked into the retreat before the children awoke and left a couple of 'surprises' so they wouldn't be disappointed on their morning 'treasure' hunt for spoos and spees... No, not really. We all know I'd only be hurting myself.
In the absence of their customary early morning spoodling, the children slept late. This is how children (and cats) appear when they are allowed to sleep unspoodled.
A rare sight indeed. I haven't included a photo of Ni, because she was, at the time, sleeping peacefully and happily under an unusually large mound of tangled blankets with both her mouth and eyes half open. While, generally speaking, a sleeping child seems to most fully embody the beauty and every day magic of childhood, a child, however beautiful and magical, sleeping with her eyes open is just the weeniest bit disturbing.
The children's extended slumber gave me the opportunity to work for a time unhindered. I've noticed that I breathe differently when I'm alone. There's space for a sigh or a slow drawing of breath to the darkest unused corners of my lungs.
I was hanging washing when the sulphur crested cockatoos flew over and were intercepted midair by the resident magpies. A screeching flapping dogfight ensued that I will never be able to paint with words. As the cockatoos escaped intact, I felt a moment of exhilaration mixed with frustration that I was alone in seeing that cool, unsharable thing and then I drew breath and smiled to myself. Events take place in this world that are drawn for me alone to witness.
The household awoke too soon, (I am always simultaneously filled with joy to see them and disappointment that I didn't achieve more while they slept) and I was swept away into the tumult that is our shared morning. From then on I took my breaths how I could get them.
You've noticed what for most in missed. This is the artist's task.
ReplyDeleteI never desire to be alone forever, but I DO cherish the times when I can sit and breathe, with no one asking me "what do you want to do?" or "what are you doing?"
ReplyDeleteIt's a sense of freedom, just to breathe, sigh, or decide to vacuum the house with no explanations or thoughts of another person besides myself.
I adore the photo of Ly spreadeagled on the bed. That's a wonderful photo. :)
ReplyDeleteOh, I forgot the original intent of my posting - that I loved your account of the avian acrobatics that took place overhead. Those moments are some of the very best, when you're the only person in the world to witness something wild and beautiful like that.
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