My quiet ways of late have nothing to do with writer’s block and everything to do with disappearing time.

Recently, there have been so many days where I’ve thrown my hands in the air and closed the laptop, essentially giving up. Trying to work with an eighteen-month-old in tow is impossible and so I’ve resorted to only writing when he’s sleeping (which is rarely…why oh why don’t my children sleep during the day?!) or when he’s with a doting grandmother. Still, I feel right now that I’m literally pulled in various directions, trying my best to keep up, watching the unread emails and the to-do list grow. It can be anxiety-inducing but in those moments of overwhelm I come back to my truth – breathe, be present, it will be ok.

Thankfully, Term 3 is just about done and we’re creeping to the finish line. Slow mornings with nowhere to be are just around the corner…I have grand plans for PJ days, library visits, book reading and beach walking. There’s a birthday to celebrate, too; Che turns nine and now, more than ever, I’m conscious of holding on to this last year before he hits double digits. I see glimpses of the teenager he will become; attitude, yes, but also a fabulous vocabulary, an insatiable appetite for books and a passion for acting. He wants to be on the stage, this boy, and I have no doubt that he’ll make it there. As he teeters on the cusp of 10 and takes a few more steps into the world away from me, I’m learning new ways of mothering – parenting the first born is always a new experience, no matter their age.

These past few weeks have been to-ing and fro-ing between winter and spring; rain and cool and warmth and blossoms. On the sunny spring days it’s glorious; wisteria in abundance, blue skies and just enough warmth to conjure days at the beach – not too far away. On each and every clear day there are two or three loads of washing on the line and I feel such a sense of accomplishment when the spaghetti bolognese stains are sun-bleached and impossible to find. I’m moving through the house doing my best to freshen up the space – flannelette has been swapped for cotton and I’ve gathered the woollens together to pack away with lavender; best keep those moths at bay.

Despite throwing open the windows and rearranging here and there I still don’t feel like we belong in this (current) house of ours. It’s such an odd feeling, one that I’m trying to observe and not judge. Sure, this house is comfortable and practical but it just doesn’t feel like “us” and so we’ve started thinking about our next step, a new location and the things we want most in a home. It feels like these discussions have more weight as the children get older; they’re putting down their own roots in this place and honouring that is a big considering factor.

And there is such a big part of me that thinks about windows and fireplaces and natural light…and no matter what I do, I can’t let it go.