Most days at the moment I feel like a fish. Swimming around the same fishbowl, all day, everyday. Same scenery. Same food. Same children staring at me. Same pebbles. Same rocks. Round and round. And round. I've talked to other mothers, and they all tell me the same thing: right now, I'm staring at the hardest part of childhood and it does get better. I should know this, because I have one child who has already been through 3. Except, I'm starting to realise Max was an exception to the rule of toddlerhood, because even though we had days which I thought would never end, we never had months, and months which I thought would never end, which is kind of how I feel with Pia. I love her. I adore her. But I also feel like she is slowly eating through my soul. And that's a fairly terrifying thought to have. That one small person can who is completely of your being, can have that much of an affect on you.
Some days, are just about the taking.
Some days, are about the giving back to the soul though as well.
Small, intrinsically basic actions, can have a huge affect on how I feel. My crafting and making time is getting less and less as I juggle children and school times, but when I get something done, the sense of achievement within my little fishbowl world is immense. Lists get made, and broken, and forgotton about, and re-made. I have been making a real effort recently to start looking at working on those lists, and each week I make a little progress. Two weeks ago, a small gathered top for Pia in Nani Iro. The week before that, a mock up of a top for myself, that needs to be resized, and for which I have slightly lost my confidence in until a time when I can really focus on it. Another small top for Pia in some Kristen Doran fabric which I never seem to be able to photograph on her. And a small knitted gift slowly coming along in a very lightweight lace wool. This week I hope to achieve - some small pants for a friends new born baby, a skirt for Pia, a start on resizing the top for myself. And a lot of piles. Boxes have been taken out, and rummaged through, and now I have a few piles waiting to play with. Tonight I have once again traced out some patterns, and will cut...
And more importantly, I pulled out a moleskin sketch book. Because I want to make some plans. Simple plans, with direction and focus. And I want to write them down. Draw them. Draw around them. Trace them in my head and with my pen in my fingers. I want to make them real.
And find a life outside my fishbowl.