Hindsight, Insight, Foresight

Back when I was still quite a bit more stuck about getting this writing thing properly going, as those following will know, I asked for some guidance from some oracle cards that a friend I met in England wrote. The cards helped me clarify what I was doing, and then I wrote about the purpose of this writing - to share my journey, the story of how I began to find my way, and then kept following it, learning as I went, and as I go, in case any of it resonates with anyone and could be of any benefit... and also for myself, to tell the stories that need to be told; and to honour my creativity - "a human necessity," as reminded by my cousin James, now one year departed, bless his soul.

And while I was at it, I also read in the guidebook for those cards, about Hindsight, Insight, and Foresight.

And I thought that these were very interesting concepts to be thinking of, especially while writing this story of there to here, then to now. I can see so much now in Hindsight that I couldn't see then. I can also see the Foresight that gave me clues back then of what was to come. And along the way there have been so many moments of Insight, moments of clarity, seeing, sensing, knowing, understanding. Important moments all.

Sometimes in the writing of it, it's hard to untangle the many cycles of the story, and sometimes it feels hard to explain things as they were then while knowing what I know now. But perhaps that doesn't matter in the end.

In the words of George Benson, from 20/20, a song on rotation in my childhood days, played often by my father...:

"If I knew back then what I know now

If I understood the what, when, why and how

Now it's clear to me

What I should have done

But hindsight is 20/20 vision"

And perhaps it is, but perhaps it isn't quite exactly 20/20 vision. Perhaps also time passing blurs; important facts, moments, pieces of the story are forgotten... And always of course, mine is just one perspective on it all. And as they say, there are three sides to every story... Mine, yours, and the truth...

But what is truth anyway...? And this, this is my story... Perhaps it doesn't really matter what I knew then, what I know now, how else it could be remembered; what matters is the journey, from there to here, from then to now, and the story...

And for that, Hindsight definitely helps, a new perspective even within my own. Learning coming from reflecting on then, from the perspective of now. And perhaps despite Hindsight, the road taken was the one needed, the lessons learnt the hard way perhaps sometimes in the end the best remembered. Or not...

As for Foresight, well it can guide us on our way forward, if we pay enough attention, find the meaning in the messages, the directions it encourages. 

And Insight? Well Insight is illuminating, enlightening. It can guide us to deeper experiences, deeper understanding, to a truth that must be true, as we know it deep inside.

Worth remembering, all three.

Motherhood, and being outside. Lessons learned.

Speaking of motherhood, and of time for oneself, and of being outside...

How good is being outside?

The other week I reached a limit. 

Some say this time with a toddler and a new baby is maybe the hardest time of motherhood. (Or at least one of...??!) And I have certainly at times been finding it somewhat a challenge.

Don't get me wrong, it's a challenge entirely worth it; so full of love; so many cuddles, snuggles and kisses; gorgeous beautiful children growing, changing, delighting; heart melting sibling moments; and falling in love with my partner and daughters over and over and over again. 

But it's tough. It's non-stop. It's intense.

This motherhood thing gets easier, then harder, then easier, then harder again. It stretches you over and over and over again. It's amazing.

But yeah, the other week I reached a limit. So in the middle of the night, the night of the full moon, as it happens, when the energy was high and intense in all directions, I could have no more of being needed by two small people, intensely, constantly, simultaneously. I was spread so thin I snapped. My partner stepped in to be with our toddler, who unfortunately still only wanted mama, for the time it took me to care for - change, feed, settle - our baby. And then I was back on toddler duty, cuddling her back to sleep, reassuring her mama is still here for her too, even when sometimes I'm not, I can't be. And then we eventually all went back to sleep after all the commotion.

In the night I asked my partner to stay home from work the next day. I knew I needed him, and I also didn't want him falling asleep on the road after all that lost sleep.

But then, in the morning, after being woken by a little one yet again, I heard him putting the kettle on for his before work coffee. They needed him he said, only three on that day.

'Nooooooooo' silently screamed every cell of my being. And I ran away. I walked out the door and left him with the two little ones. No way to go to work then.

It was dawn. It was crisp, and quiet, and beautiful. I walked. Faster than toddler pace, faster than carrying toddler pace, faster than pregnant pace, faster than carrying baby pace, faster than carrying all the things for toddlers and babies pace, faster than pushing a stroller pace. Further than toddler limit, further than to the car, further than to the shops, further than round the house doing laundry, tidying, doing all the things of housework and child minding, back and forth going nowhere. Faster and further than I have in a long while.

It felt so good.

And when I got back my partner said, 'Well I'm not going to work now'. Um, yeah.

And I went and had a shower all by myself.

I couldn't have made it through that day alone with two small people, needing me constantly, intensely, simultaneously, without feeling angry and upset and being not nice enough to, patient enough with, my dear children.


But my partner stayed home and we had a nice day and managed ok instead.

And we went to the doctor, a week or so late, for our 6 week mother and baby check. And I only teared up a little bit when she asked how I was feeling. 'It's hard,' she said. 'It's common,' she said. 'I'm stressed,' I said. 'Overwhelmed,' I said. 'Not depressed,' I said. Thankfully. I've had those days and I've gotten through them. I know how. I know how to ask for help when I need it.


And I know when it's time to go outside.

That day before, before that night, with the moon, I'd written a to do list, as I do. And on it I'd written "Outside time". Yes. That day I failed to do it, as I fail so many items on the list. But that day after, after that night, I couldn't do anything else. I went outside. Alone. I knew it was what I needed.

And every single day since I've had outside time, not by myself, but outside. Mmmmm. Outside. Crisp autumn days, and now winter, misty mornings and clear afternoons, warm sun shine and fresh cool shadows, scent of rain and eucalyptus. Toddler exploring, baby observing, mother nurturing. Needed. A to do that must be done.

And meanwhile I've continued to make time for writing, even amongst the non-stop intense constancy of motherhood. And yes, sometimes it is more important to do something other than sleep, no matter how important that is too... And I write for myself the story of these days as we go, the ups and downs and little precious moments of days with tiny people changing so very fast. And also I continue writing this story long untold, of this journey from there and then, to here and now, the story long awaited.

And meanwhile, one of many parenting books half read in my pile, Tears Heal, a book about tears, and listening, and telling coherent stories. About working through the lessons of our own lives and letting it all flow, in order to help our children do the same as they go. To help them come through the other side of their childhoods strong and well healed of all the inevitable wounds of childhood, of being raised by imperfect parents, in a world that is sometimes just that little bit too cruel...

It seems an important book to be reading, amongst many others, about babies, toddlers, sleeping, eating, learning, playing, feeling, understanding, listening, communicating...

Another thing to make time for, in amongst all the rest of it...

And then today, as it turns out, after working on writing this for a week, and almost but not quite yet posting it, I had another one of those days after the night before... In this case the night before being me really being keen for sleep, ready for an early night, and both my girls sleeping for six hour stretches. But... not at the same time... The big little one slept six hours or more from her around 8pm bedtime, while I spent the first three of those hours with the unsettled little little one - feeding, changing, holding, and another round, repeat; waiting, hoping, so ready for sleep. And as it turns out little one was obviously 'tanking up' during these hours, as she then proceeded to sleep her first ever 6 hour stretch (miraculously early in her little life - is she, possibly, could she be, just even maybe, a unicorn baby...??). Meanwhile the little big one came in and woke me up, and then woke me up again, and again, wriggling around beside me... Sigh... I was a little short with poor tot, I told her to sleep, to lie down, stop wriggling, mama's tired, mama needs to sleep...

And so then today I was tired, and just a little bit grumpy. And in the morning little little one was unsettled again. And little big one was out of sorts, and demanding. I tried putting little little down when she was finally sleeping. I was uncomfortable trying to read, do puzzles, with little big, one handed, awkwardly positioned. And then there were the two loads of laundry I didn't get to hanging last night, rinsed once again and waiting... 

Little little woke when I put her down. Big little didn't want to help, like she usually does, with the laundry. The pegs kept popping and the laundry dropping, and other things sorted kept falling down. Both girls needed sorting, first this, then that, and around again... And still there was laundry waiting.

And I started getting more grumpy, and impatient with the little ones.

So I stopped. I gave up on the laundry (after hanging the nappies needed before too long). I got us all fed, pottied, nappy changed, in sling, warm clothes and boots. 

And we went outside.

How good is being outside?

Big little roaming, happily free

A little little cosy snuggle, and finally sleep

And, just because, some random quotes about parenting I like, one on the theme of reasons for not beating myself up for not being a perfect mother, and a couple of other favourites...

"A mother is neither good nor bad nor the product of illusion, but is a separate and independent entity: The good-enough mother .. starts off with an almost complete adaptation to her infant’s needs, and as time proceeds she adapts less and less completely, gradually, according to the infant’s growing ability to deal with her failure. Her failure to adapt to every need of the child helps them adapt to external realities."

- Donald Winnicott

"Let's raise children who won't have to recover from their childhoods." 

- Pam Leo

"It's not our job to toughen our children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It's our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless." 

- L.R. Knost

Mendinspiration 3 - duffles

Couple of months back, or so, as it happens, I visited my ex out at The Wild, the first time in a few years, after meaning to get around to going out there for a while... He lives there now with his partner of some time, in the upstairs space of that giant shed that now has walls. It's turned out a lovely enough space. And the kitchen slowly evolved in its corner downstairs to be more of an inside sort of a kitchen, again, it's turned out pretty nice, very functional, with a great looking wood stove for cooking, in the corner where the sugar glider once sat. There's a shower just outside and they now have a tank up the hill for added pressure too. The garden has grown, they now have a chook run. The toilet remains the same.

Things are more or less complete, and more or less still in progress, as these things tend to be... 

I wouldn't want to live there. 

I loved living there with no walls, but walls would have ruined it for me. They were ruining it for me. Section by section closing in around me; cutting me off, disconnecting me; boxing me in; restricting my freedom, my movement, my growth...

My ex asked what I'm up to at the moment. Mostly being a mother takes up my time I said, at that point with my toddler along and enjoying exploring, and growing the next little one in my belly. I couldn't in that moment think of a single other thing I'd really done lately...

But not long after I was there I finally got moving on some of that mending I so love doing, some things long overdue that had been bearing down on my attention, wanting doing, in all my spare time... I mended the aforementioned orange hippy pants. But before that I mended my duffle coat. 

I bought this coat something like 15 years ago, back when I used to still sometimes 'go shopping'. I bought it in Bridge Road, Richmond. I think it was on sale. Maybe it was $100. A good deal for a good wool coat in any case, that has lasted me now a good many years, with some fairly heavy use along the way.

It needed the cords replaced on the don't know if it's really the name for them but what I always call the duffles. As usual I failed to remember to take a before picture. And as usual I added a little extra embroidery, for the sake of it, and also for extra strength. And so as my perfectionist side didn't worry about it being perfect and instead just let it be, evolve, as it would, with spirally triangley sort of random different ways on each attachment point. I used my old sewing machine, a hand me down from my parents, to get it done quicker, in all my spare time, which meant it was harder to get it exact. And I ran out of black so some random few I did in a khaki kind of green.

I'd like to some time hand embroider, on the back of the coat, perhaps "earth lover," with artistic style, in green leaves and vines, flowers and autumn colours. Maybe I'll get there eventually.

Seems fitting somehow that I mended that coat finally, not long after that visit, as I wore it almost constantly, those two winters out there in the weather of The Wild. Even then it needed mending, it's been a long time.

But now it is mended.

And now it is written.

And I now have an answer to the question of what I've been doing, that goes just a little beyond my day-and-night job, my most important vocation, of mothering. Because despite the immense important of that occupation, sometimes it's also important to carve out a little time and space for oneself. And for me sometimes that means mending; sometimes expressing, writing, or creating; flowing; working; healing; reflecting, feeling; doing, being…

A before photo after all - the coat as it was in The Wild days,-as yet and already in need of repair. Photo taken on return from our great South Australian Odyssey, along with our friend and his veg oil running Troopy - yet another story to be told, on some other day...

And funnily enough, this week a guy came to our house to value it, as we're in the process of changing our mortgage over to the more ethical Bank Australia (who rejected us when we bought the place), and he wore a coat, and his coat had duffles, and they were in need of repair too. Perhaps we all sometimes need a little mending.