Cold Spring Day
Before the alarm went off, while it was still dark and the house still, I knew it was going to be a low-physical energy day. My body tends to be loud when the weather is on the cooler side and this spring day it was cooler. My body protests, my body tells me it isn’t happy with all the moving I want it to do, cerebral palsy is highly inconvenient that way. I wanted more sleep and I kind of wanted to give into that want and pull the blankets back over my head and snuggle down with my nursling.
But the pull of the still house and the work on my desk called and I got up, almost tripping over the tonka that was left on the stairs from last night.
I like to live under the illusion that the last place I should trip over stuff is my own home but my kids are kids, so I am aware of the impossibility of the illusion. If I were to blame someone for that near accident, who would it be? The five-year-old who was so engaged in his play last night and it all ended with a round of giggles? The two-year-old who helped her brother clean up the rest of the cars and trucks? The Dad who missed it on his way to bed? Myself for not “making my kids clean up”?
I considered blaming the giver of the tonkas in the first place and that made me smile on my way to the coffee maker, as I stopped to move the tonka off the stairs. I’m not going to blame one of my favourite people on the planet, though I considered sending the uncle a text. Blame isn’t useful or contributing to a harmonious household.
I make up a veggie tray for the kids, pop it back in the fridge, have coffee, get something to eat, then I do a quick physio protocol, trying to give my muscles some relief.
The children are still sleeping by the time I am done and I put out some books for them to find on the piano out of our collection.
The children wake up, just as I’m out of the shower and I am feeling exhausted in my body, before ten in the morning.
Low physical energy, with high energy kids is not a combination that is always easy to manage.
We talk while they eat and we make a general plan of what we are going to do for the day, then the kids move on to different activities.
I go to my desk and get to work on a new project.
My son wandered over and asked me what I was working on and that led to a discussion on whether or not books could be “un-released” and I talked about how books can be pulled, for different reasons and for different reasons, authors and publishers can re-release a book.
He caught on to that and one of the first reasons that came to his mind, was putting on a new cover on a book and he thought of some of his favourite books that could use a new cover.
As I was finishing up, my son came over with his big yoga sized ball and ran upstairs, his plan was to drop the ball from the stairs to see how high it could bounce.
Big ball, small space.
The ball had nowhere to go except into my desk, with all my stuff over it or into the counters, with all the stuff on it.
I pointed out the probabilities of the ball knocking things over from these areas. My son considered what I said but worked out that if he dropped the ball straight over the banister in a straight line, it wouldn’t bounce into the kitchen or over to my desk.
It was a theory that made sense, so he tested it out and while it was true that he could make the ball drop straight down without interfering with the other things, I couldn’t get over the thought that given enough bounces, something would be bounced into, despite the theory being tested.
We switched to bouncing the ball off of the front door.
I went through the day with my energy remaining low.
The children took their bikes outside and I sat down and watched them ride, delighting in the freedom they felt by riding in the empty parking lot.
After we went outside, we checked on our plants and tried to look up what the little, tiny green sprout is but the search was inconclusive. It could be basil or lavender or rosemary, hopefully, it’ll keep growing and it’ll reveal what it is when it is ready.
Looking at the plants with the kids, I recalled a chant I knew and wondered if I had it in any of my books. I sang the chant loudly and they laughed.
Seed. Bud. Blossom. Grow.
I told my children about a friend of mine and how she would yell at her African Violets, convinced they would grow faster
They were unconvinced that the growth of plants could be affected by speaking or yelling directly to them, because the plants hear us talking when we are in the room, anyways.
I thought they made good points.
The children ran off to jump on the bed and sat down and watched them.
I was done by this point in the day. I put on a soundtrack and just lounged on the couch while the children got out our ramp set. After that, we watched a few things on YouTube together, then Dad came home and took the kids outside.
If Dad wasn’t there, I might not have cooked and we probably would have foraged in the fridge or called for pizza. I had the energy to pull together a vegetarian pasta we have been wanting to try and because I, too, am always learning, I learned, I have been cooking fresh pasta wrong, my entire cookinghood.
On days where my physical energy is low, I rely on our connections, I rely on YouTube and Netflix and Plants vs Zombies and trust my attention and presence is good enough.