The post delves into the struggles and aspirations of a mother balancing the work of motherhood and personal fulfillment. It also touches on the significance of home as a nurturing and inspiring environment.

how do mothers do a slow morning?

A 5am rise. I sit to write. Again, I see him stir on the monitor and my thoughts are: have I just gotten up early to get straight to work even earlier? Will I lose this opportunity for me because, no matter how still I try and be, the dog is making noise, and my husband is making noise, and everything is making the little wiggle in his bed. It’s not time to get up, my love. Please rest a little longer so mama can have this moment. But today, will luck be on my side? When you have a child with the Fear of Missing Out, it’s hard to know. We had two consecutive days of seven am risings – it would be nice to have those two hours to write. That would be a dream.

How do mothers do this? How do they rise at this time with peace in their spirits? I did have one mother tell me that they get angry when their kid wakes early and disturbs their slow morning routine, giving them an activity to do to keep them busy until they’re done. My child is 18 months – this is not possible. So, my thought if he wakes us: this is all lost. I think I need to learn complete detachment to the experience, that, if I have it, I have it — if I don’t, I don’t kind of mentality. I am not sure how to cultivate that when I am so very attached to writing and my peaceful, slow mornings.

He continues to move, he stretches, all is lost the moment my husband walks up those noisy stairs. Or will this be yet another day where I spend so much time staring at the monitor, only to discover I have ample time to myself. No, today feels different. Today feels like it isn’t mine. The anxiety sits in my chest. I feel guilt for wishing my son to sleep, I feel frustration for an extra hour of a working day – motherhood is work, it is a vocation, but it is work. Is the key later evenings? But then I lose my ability to journal. What is more valuable to me? My son, no doubt. But out of my times, my moments, what takes priority? How do I place priority on this when I love it all?

All is lost. You have woken.

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the comforts of home and call of the crow

I just heard a crow through my chimney. I thought I heard him once, but then I said: if that was a crow, let me hear his call again. And he called to me once more. Though this seems insignificant, it is my spirit animal (well, a Raven is, but they are one of the same family) – my primary guide – and when he presents himself it’s usually for good reason; joy on the horizon, new beginnings, fruitful chapters. I wonder why he has called to me, today.

I am five chapters into The Life Giving Home and the Christian undertones have become overtones. I am not Christian, as I have emphasized many times before, and while the values of Christianity are something I can align with, the shove-it-all-in-your-throat religious chatter is something I’d rather skip. So, I’m skipping sections of the book because I am still finding some gems among the pages. Essentially, the message is that your home should be a space of beauty, comfort, and inspiration. I absolutely can agree with that.

Sally (the mother of the two authors) described herself as the composer of her house, the one who creates the symphony of comfort; essentially creating the energy of the home through her mindful choices. This is me: I am the composer of this home. Jordan is not the decorator or the one who makes conscious purchases to amplify the energy of the space, he just gives me ample room to do it on my own. I’m the one buying the plants, lighting the candles, decorating the shelves and corners with books on books on books, putting the frames on the wall, highlighting our family moments through plaqued photos, who composes the learning spaces for our son… I set the space. I set the energy of the home through these choices.

I am not a minimalist by any means. In truth, I don’t really understand how mothers could be. I don’t want an art gallery, I want a home. I don’t want untouched pieces, I want my son to see himself in every corner, feel safe in every room, find a piece of himself and fall into warmth all around the house. I don’t, personally, find minimalist and “art deco” homes to be inspiring or even inviting; I think they are cold and closed off. I find inspiration in old pieces mixed with new, in quirky pieces found on our travels, in wall decor that tells a little about us and invites us in, on books used as decoration, on exposed wood and metal beams, in iconography and hints of gold. And, most importantly, on colourful toys and children’s literature scattered everywhere you look. Like a living thing, this home is always changing, shifting, breathing. And it is a home that is alive with Spirit and Source.

A quote in the book says, “All people need a place where their roots can grow deep and they always feel like they belong and have a loving refuge. And all people need a place that ives wings to their dreams, nurturing possibilities of who they might become.” I want our home to be that for our son, for whoever might join our little family. I want our home to be that for my husband, for me. And that is how I feel about this home – which is amazing, because it hasn’t really been felt since we lived in Strasbourg in 2019. This place inspires me, endlessly. I am continuously creatively moved and driven to pursue and expand upon passions and pleasures and to journal and read and decorate and the like because of this space. It gloriously reflects our soul and our energy, despite it mostly being a product of my doing. It is a refuge for our spirits.

Today is our first full week without my husband (semi-full week; Friday we have an appointment in the major city of our region in order to renew my residency card – a stress of immigrant life). I have set intentions for the week in my journal, and I anticipate that it will be wonderful. I have no worries. If this morning was any indication of what lies ahead, I know we will have a splendid time with one another. My son has just started learning how to truly play independently, for at least 15 minutes at a time, which has allowed me to get more reading in. I am working to grab a book rather than the phone when these pockets appear. By getting my pages in during the day, I am allowing more room for creative journaling in the evening, and I am putting less stress on the naptime by granting more room for writing. It’s a win all around.

He stirs again — sleep doesn’t seem to be in the cards, today…

xx C

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I hear she moved to Paris and it changed her life.