Why Getting Out of the Door is Cause for a High-Five
Have you ever offered encouragement to someone else, only to realise that it's exactly the encouragement that YOU need?
This morning was hard. We had a birthday dinner last night, including one sorry-looking but completely delicious cake in the shape of a number two (the actual number, not a exaggerated description of the euphemistic usage of number two). So things were slightly off-schedule, as far as bedtime, etc. was concerned. Plus, my oldest girl was (and is) still recovering from this bout of nonspecific illness she's had for two weeks. Actually, to describe the challenge that was this morning, I have to start by telling you about yesterday. Yesterday was Monday, and the first day back to school for my oldest after missing 6 or 7 days of school. So the routine was unfamiliar at best, and completely absent at worst. We got through it though, and with two gorgeous children dispatched to their appropriate places of learning, we set out on the fortnightly shopping trip. It's a stressful thing, mostly because of how expensive it is to feed and clothe 6 people for two weeks. Thankfully, I had Lachlan to help, so we each took one trolley, one child, and filled both the trolleys with provisions, and in a very efficient manner, got it done. Went home, put away the shopping, have lunch, babies to sleep, and all of a sudden it dawns on me that we are having a birthday celebration for my 2 year-old, and I have yet to make a cake. I Google "butter cake recipe", find one that looks easy, and make the batter. Note to self, "add 2 tbsp. of cake batter" to food diary. I don't have time to bake it before going to get my oldest from school, so we leave it on top of the stove, ready to bake when we get back from school. Wake up babies, walk to school and back, then come home and begin tidying up cake mess while cake is in oven. The dinner itself was a simple affair, but it was just a bit of a later night than usual. Not heaps later, but normally the kids go to bed 6:30 -7:00, and it was 8:00 by the time the were all in bed asleep. This morning they were tired. They're never super-excited about getting out of bed, but this morning it was like asking a vegetarian to eat a hot dog. Tired, check. Cranky, check. Anyway, we got through the process, and as I arrived at preschool to drop off my second oldest daughter, My friend arrived at the same time, with her three little ones in tow. Our eyes met, and I said, "Sometimes, getting out of the door is worthy of a high-five". And we did just that. A resounding, palm-smacking high-five. And I quickly realised that I was not only encouraging her, but also encouraging myself. Which is phenomenal, because until very recently, I would have been mentally kicking myself about all the things I should have done differently, and not recognising that simple truth.
That sometimes, in this life of mine with small people everywhere...
Getting Out of the Door is Cause for a High-Five.
So I raise my palm, in a technological High-Five, to celebrate with you all, in a moment of celebration for the victories, be they huge or tiny.
Cheers,
Sarah
This morning was hard. We had a birthday dinner last night, including one sorry-looking but completely delicious cake in the shape of a number two (the actual number, not a exaggerated description of the euphemistic usage of number two). So things were slightly off-schedule, as far as bedtime, etc. was concerned. Plus, my oldest girl was (and is) still recovering from this bout of nonspecific illness she's had for two weeks. Actually, to describe the challenge that was this morning, I have to start by telling you about yesterday. Yesterday was Monday, and the first day back to school for my oldest after missing 6 or 7 days of school. So the routine was unfamiliar at best, and completely absent at worst. We got through it though, and with two gorgeous children dispatched to their appropriate places of learning, we set out on the fortnightly shopping trip. It's a stressful thing, mostly because of how expensive it is to feed and clothe 6 people for two weeks. Thankfully, I had Lachlan to help, so we each took one trolley, one child, and filled both the trolleys with provisions, and in a very efficient manner, got it done. Went home, put away the shopping, have lunch, babies to sleep, and all of a sudden it dawns on me that we are having a birthday celebration for my 2 year-old, and I have yet to make a cake. I Google "butter cake recipe", find one that looks easy, and make the batter. Note to self, "add 2 tbsp. of cake batter" to food diary. I don't have time to bake it before going to get my oldest from school, so we leave it on top of the stove, ready to bake when we get back from school. Wake up babies, walk to school and back, then come home and begin tidying up cake mess while cake is in oven. The dinner itself was a simple affair, but it was just a bit of a later night than usual. Not heaps later, but normally the kids go to bed 6:30 -7:00, and it was 8:00 by the time the were all in bed asleep. This morning they were tired. They're never super-excited about getting out of bed, but this morning it was like asking a vegetarian to eat a hot dog. Tired, check. Cranky, check. Anyway, we got through the process, and as I arrived at preschool to drop off my second oldest daughter, My friend arrived at the same time, with her three little ones in tow. Our eyes met, and I said, "Sometimes, getting out of the door is worthy of a high-five". And we did just that. A resounding, palm-smacking high-five. And I quickly realised that I was not only encouraging her, but also encouraging myself. Which is phenomenal, because until very recently, I would have been mentally kicking myself about all the things I should have done differently, and not recognising that simple truth.
That sometimes, in this life of mine with small people everywhere...
Getting Out of the Door is Cause for a High-Five.
So I raise my palm, in a technological High-Five, to celebrate with you all, in a moment of celebration for the victories, be they huge or tiny.
Cheers,
Sarah
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