Days like these...

I can’t lie.  There are times when I look longingly, wistfully back at the days before kids.  Those times usually find me standing in the middle of my two kids fighting, screaming or crying and the Architect and I hissing at each other, disagreeing every step of the way.   The tension is rising, the kitchen’s usually hot and I’m thinking:

“Nobody told me there’d be days like these”.

Him:  “Just give the toy to him”

Me: “She had it first and it’s not fair that he gets everything just because he’s louder!”

Repeat ad nauseum.

Freeze that shot.

That’s the exact moment I’m wishing them all away and I’m sitting beside a bubbling stream or something.  Actually, this is exactly where I picture myself:

When this photo was taken, it was a simpler time.  We were in Port Douglas with brother & sister-in-law and we only had one young child each.  Life was easier and we were still travelling relatively incident and stress-free.  When this photo was taken, I knew that I would always travel back to this place in my mind because it was just so beautiful and peaceful.

Fast forward three years later and a trip up to Far North Queensland seems like a world away and Mossman Gorge lives on only as a cover photo on my Facebook page.

The times have changed and our family has changed.  There’s more noise in the house, there’s more mess in the house and there’s more things to get done.  Whilst there’s more fighting, screaming and squealing, when it’s the opposite and there is total silence, it seems strange.  The old saying “careful what you wish for because you might get it” comes back to me.   Whenever the Polynesian Princess goes to stay with her grandparents the house feels empty.  It's too quiet.  Little Warrior wanders from room to room looking for big sister and I find myself counting the days until we’re back to full complement.  Crazy innit?

So there are definitely times when I am wishing I were back in the gorge, sitting cross-legged and ommmming myself to mindfulness and peace.  But then there are times when we’re cycling home from a fish & chip dinner at Southbank, with one child on each bike and looking at the sunset from the Go Between Bridge.   Everybody is happy and for a moment, everybody is quiet.  It is sheer bliss, and I think:

“Nobody told me there’d be days like these”.