Everything and Nothing

What to say about our week? How to put words to the sheer number of things that happen in even one day? I'm lost for the descriptions. We are filled to the brim with living it, and I find so little room for telling it, though I want to.

"How was today?" He says it when he walks in, some days. Sometimes it's later, a companionable sharing of what we did and how we felt about it after all the little eyes have closed tight. And yet, I don't know how to tell it. Today was fine. It was busy - or quiet. It was frustrating, long, joyful, busy, stressy, rushed, peaceful, tiring, or hilarious. Sometimes all of these. It had a flavour all of its own.

How I feel, this week, is full of the ordinary extraordinary business of just being here.

"It's such a relief to see that girls DO get as dirty as boys!" The mama who says this to me is chasing two little lads in blue jackets and brown trousers. I laugh. My rainbow coloured daughters *are* filthy.





On our way back along the wet paths through the woods, they are singing a song about how great it is to be dirty, and how wonderful mud is. "Yeah, we're so muddy, we're jumping in the mud, we like to be dirty, it's so fun to be muddy!" I laugh some more. How could I not?


There has been more reading of Arthurian legends. More baking of cakes with pink glitter on top (of course) and more afternoon just-because baths where the water soaks through my floor and I dispair at the thought of trying to return the bathroom to approaching orderly. More mending, of loved mama-made toys, and making of new ones. More prayers and cleaning windows and prayers whilst cleaning windows.

More ancient history. More form drawing and watercolours. More walking to the corner park (almost every day). More singing, sometimes in Hebrew, and more looking at the stars.

It sounds charmed! Sometimes it is *hard* though, and sometimes my heart doesn't want to step with the beat of this and that, sometimes I want to run and not stop running. And yet, and yet. It is also magical. Sometimes the hardest day is, on reflection, the most beautiful and meaningful.

These are the things that are filling my days up, right to the brim. Joy, sorrow, everything and nothing.