To Have Shyness

In English they say you are something, as though your state at that moment defines you, you are thirsty, you are hungry, when in truth you’re not – they’re moments that pass, some delicious, some unpleasant, but you are so much more than any of them. In Italian and Spanish and probably many other languages I’m not wise enough to know they say you have thirst, you have hunger, right now, maybe not in an hour or a year or even tomorrow. It doesn’t define you, its just part of you in this very moment.

My little one has shyness. Eyes cast downwards in timid moments, stock still or running back to Mumma when it all gets too much, arms wide, crying that cry that seems to come straight from the baby still inside the walking talking little one.

And it’s frustrating sometimes. Because when it eases I see how beautifully he plays with other kids, I see the delight he takes in the interactions with others and the stories he tells us afterwards. So I put him out there – enough for all the scary bits to seem not so scary anymore, from the vantage point that feels most like home, be it mummas hip or just in the aura of someone who makes the world seem a little smaller.

Tonight, like so many nights, my boy ran around the house pushing his pink stroller, Peppa Pig tucked in neatly. He sang, he talked about his day, he made jokes, he played in the bath with me laughing so sweetly and freely that it made me soar. He talked to the stars, marvelled at a spider, tore around the house squealing with glee playing chasey and covered Daddy and I with kisses.

And I felt so intensely grateful for this little boy. This boy that has shyness right now. Because soon the world wont seem so big to him, people wont seem worth hiding from, my hip will seem too limiting, the urge to explore will get too much, he will chase others with that same gleeful squeal that he chases his family and they will be lucky enough to hear all the stories that bubble out of him.

I’m excited for him, for every one of those bits to come. I also feel blessed, because right now, when my shoulder is still a safe place to nuzzle into and when “Mumma” is still whispered like comfort, we know this boy, this fascinating little person, in a way that others don’t yet. Like a really amazing secret.  And in this moment, he is ours in a way that only the ones who have shyness are.

We have his jokes, his quirks, his funny faces that he pulls to make us laugh. We have the raw moments and the joyful moments and the moments of wild toddler abandon. Sometimes he lets others glimpse them too, before deciding that maybe our secret is best kept a little longer.

I am blessed to be the mother of a little boy who has shyness, just as I am to be the mother of a big boy who has none. As time passes they will have many other things, many other parts of themselves that wont define them any more than these ones do, they’ll just become pieces of the puzzle of who they are. For now I’ll just aim to be the one who has balance for them when they need it, and I’ll enjoy all the little moments that are ours to keep.

Sebastian

I’ve never been one for love letters…

My Husband…

I’ve never been one for love letters. Perhaps my heart is a little too big to wear on my sleeve, or the words fall over eachother clumsily when I try to bring them together. When I try to say ‘I love you’ with all the words it deserves.

But as time passes I realize that those three words can’t possibly contain it all, and that they tumble from me so often they blur into the other words that make up our days. They become like habit, comfortable and reliable, but not all they should be.

The truth is that life gets busy. It gets so busy at times that it steals whole days sometimes before we get a chance to really see eachother. We see the mess to clean up, the squealing kids, the work to be done. We talk about all the have tos and need tos but the wants… they hang there unsaid, stolen by all the stuff that distracts us and we forget how much we ache for them.

Sometimes I watch you when you don’t realize it. When you’re focused on work or when laughter escapes your lips. I drink in all the intricacies that make you who you are and I allow myself that moment to fall in love a little more. Sometimes it feels like a warmth bubbling up in my chest, other times like a comfort, a safe place to land.

The I love yours in marriage become mixed over time, and you realize now and then that the thoughtful moments say it as much as words. That the gestures and touches and private jokes blend in with the hard work to make this family whole and it becomes a bit of a tapestry together. It’s quite beautiful really, the dance we do getting through the every day, each move so essential to the other.

Thank you for the soft place to rest my head when I lay in your arms, thank you for the tingles when you kiss me, for taking out the trash when it’s too cold outside, for the way you rest your hand on the small of my back when we walk up hills to give me a boost. Thank you for making a space where I can be raw and honest, angry, passionate, crazy or sad and still seeing the beautiful in me.

I’ve never been one for love letters, but every day is my I love you.

loveletter

Copyright Nirvana Dawson 2013

Treasure hunting

These past couple of weeks have been a blur of sick kids, sick parents and the general chaos that goes with it. A teething toddler squealing if he wasn’t velcro attached to a hip at all times and mess, so spectacularly much of it, breeding like the germs we have been trying to fight.

In amongst it all there has been a lot of tiredness, frustration, and, well… sneezing. There haven’t been a lot of ‘wow’ moments.

Or at least that’s what I thought. It occurred to me today in the midst of a pile of laundry that I had forgotten about the game in this. That every day, be it filled with snot and old cartoons or beaches and laughter – they’re all treasure hunts.

In this day there was gratitude to be found. There were so very many things to be thankful for. So I started being aware of the treasure hunt. I started looking a little harder….

I found a beautiful home behind the newly applied pencil marks on the walls (thanks little one). I found the unmistakable smell of ‘baby’ still clinging to the toddler than clung to me. I found new angles to my five year olds face – just a little – the sign of a growth spurt in progress and the proud squeals when he marked his new height on the wall by the fridge. I realized that my enormous laundry pile meant abundance – so many clothes. So many beautiful colours, fabrics and styles all ours. I found options in the ‘I don’t know what to cook’… healthy ones, lots of them, with fresh broccoli and silverbeet and basil from the garden – scents that I could still smell through my blocked nose. I even found appreciation in my tiredness, and realized how deliciously good sitting down felt today in those moments when I had the chance.

We get so caught up in the tired or the busy or the stressed or the sick that we miss all the wonderful holding it together. There is always gratitude to be found in the day you have… sometimes, you just need to take a little more notice.

grateful

Copyright Nirvana Dawson 2013