Rhythym of Life

I was perusing magazines recently, champagne in hand

and reclining on a beautiful day bed.

No. Correction. I wish I was perusing and reclining.

I hurriedly glanced through a toddler mag that came in the mail a while ago

and an article caught my attention.

The article was written by special needs teacher and author Lou Harvey-Zahra.

It was titled 'Rhythym of Life' and explored the idea that

positive family rhythyms lead to calm, connectedness and family peace.

Hey, family peace. Who wouldn't want them some of that?

Family peace - it's a Mum's equivalent to the pageant queen's breathy, pouty "world peace".

"As a Mum, I just wish for family peace for all".

Cue cynical laughter at the park, pool, playgroup, table, checkout ...

 

In his article, Lou quotes Steve Biddulph

who knows his stuff in regards to the early childhood business.

Steve reckons that

 "75% of all discipline problems are caused by the hurry that parents are in."

 (The Secret of Happy Children)

Big call, Steve.

I would go one further and say

at least 75% of all my (so called) problems are caused by the hurry I'm in.

Maybe I'm alone here - but my life rhythym is on freakin speed a lot of the time.

I regularly have to consciously take my foot off the gas (literally & figuratively),

breathe and reprioritise.

Is completing every item on the to do list more important than

hardcore Magoo / Mummy time?

Is being on time more important than our safety?

Is a few stupid minutes worth all the hustle and bustle of 'household central station'?

Is it healthy that it takes serious planning to find a suitable, single day

to be 'grounded'  - for my car to be serviced?

I sometimes appreciate the way Magoo can get in front of me and weave drunkenly at his own pace - forcing me to take it down a notch.
The way he'll say "just play, Mum", "come sit, Mum" as if it's the
most important thing in the world (which it is, really).
I love when he wakes up and pats his bed for me to jump in (the list of tasks floating away)
or when we randomly sit on the kitchen floor and really cuddle.
How he always wants to "help" and how letting him "help"
is more valuable than the time it costs.
I love that he's switched on enough to know when I let my mind wander to my damn lists during stories and how he wants to stop and look at every. little. thing. along the way.

My little man is my metronome.

He manages to tame my orchestra when they threaten to rush ahead 
into a cresendo of crazy, dramatic tempos.
 He gently (and not so gently) restores the steady, calm rhythyms in our life

 that are so important for him.

Bravo to that!

Shar :-)