Posted on : 03-02-2014 | By : Cindy | In : Behaviours, Funny, Insightful perception, Kids nutrition, Uncategorized
I wake from a peri-menopausal sleep and glance at my watch. 6.15am. I jump out of bed, peeling off the sweat soaked PJ’s and race to the shower. I am already 15 minutes late.
I hurry downstairs to chop the apple and almonds for the Swiss Muesli. I stir in plain yoghurt and currants to the apple juice soaked oats and plop a fry pan with a dash of canola oil on the gas for an egg. The leisurely breakfasts and 9am start of primary school are finished. This year it’s high school and a 7.15am start to catch the bus.
My husband is already sipping his coffee and checking his ipad for news, stock prices and mail. The red teapot sits waiting for me on the bench. He’s made me tea and I gratefully pour the amber liquid into my favourite cup. Nothing like a good cup of tea in the morning. I flip the egg, pour a glass of water and place it all on the table with the Swiss Muesli. My son stumbles downstairs, already wired to his ipod and grunts a good morning. I sit down with my cup of tea for a few minutes of meaningful conversation.
“Just let me finish listening to this song, Mum.” He munches on his muesli. Eventually he unplugs himself and is ready to chat. The clock ticks relentlessly towards 7.15. My brain switches from meaningful conversation to task oriented talk.
I make the lunch – hummus filled wholemeal wraps (dietitian interpretation – protein), a few Vita Wheat crackers (extra wholegrain carbs for an active, growing boy), grapes (fruit), cherry tomatoes (vegetables) and homemade chocolate brownie (treat). I do the dishes, wipe the benches, check my phone and ipad for important messages.
I run upstairs and make the bed, put on the washing, brush my teeth and run down to kiss my husband goodbye. I put on lipstick – it’s amazing how a slash of red can transform a face. I help my son do up his tie, pack his books, his lunch and his half frozen water bottle. He runs back up the three stories to get his watch and down again. We head out the door. It’s 7.20am. It’s a beautiful day. I breathe in the fresh morning air and glance at my lovely son.
“Where’s your badge?” There’s a gap on his blazer where the badge should be. His expression melts into Eeyore mode.
“I don’t know. But I have to wear it. Oh, and I forgot my library book.” The ten kilo school bag on his back suddenly looks even heavier.
We head back to the house. I run up the three flights of stairs – we don’t have time to risk a male search for the lost item. I grab the badge off his bed – and the library book. We walk the ten minutes up the hill to the bus stop and I wave him off at 7.40am.
I walk home the long way, down quiet streets and through the park. I stretch and do the eccentric exercises for my Achilles that I never seem to remember to do at home. I think about the day and pray.
8.30am. I hang out the washing, clean the bathrooms and sit down to write this blog. I want to get it written quickly so I can write some of my novel before writing group tomorrow but the phrases plod at tortoise speed from my fingers. I think about the other jobs I have to do today: pay the dietitian membership fees, listen to an update on Iron Metabolism and a review of Fats in the Modern Diet, sort out a tax problem, send off my novel manuscript to another publisher, mop the floors, see a friend, prepare two school scripture lessons, plan the year’s program for the weekly kids writing group I run, find a painter for one of our rental houses.
By mid-morning I am hungry and remember that I only grabbed a spoonful of Swiss Muesli this morning. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I chide myself. I am the greatest advocate of breakfast but it’s almost impossible to eat with a body awash with adrenaline. Oh well, I will make up for it at lunch time: a can of tuna and home made bean salad complete with celery, red onion and cauliflower. The perfect combination of protein, omega 3′s, fibre and cancer preventing cruciferous vegetables (at least the cauliflower pieces.) Meanwhile, a low fat milky coffee should keep me going.
By afternoon it’s boiling outside. I mop the floors then walk up the hill to buy fillet steak to go with a grated carrot, garlic, olive oil and lemon juice salad, and post off my manuscript. I get home, scull some water and look at the clock. There’s enough time to go up to my room and pray, or sleep… or should I keep writing? I go to my room and sink to my knees.
“Be still and know that I am God.” The words are like honey spreading through my mind, dripping through my body. I bask in the feeling, allowing it to refresh me and strengthen me. I praise and thank God for who he is. I force my thoughts upward to God, away from my own life, my concerns, the things I have to do. It’s such a relief – like a mini holiday.
I open the door to a hot, tired boy. He dumps his leaden pack and slumps his grimy body on the cream couch. I make a banana berry smoothie and peanut butter sandwich. I supervise home-work, then send him off to tennis while I start making dinner. I think about tomorrow – the spin class and 2km swim, the writing group and catching up on the things I haven’t managed to do today. My life is great and I am fortunate enough to not have to work full time.
Occasionally I meet someone who knew me when I had a full time nutrition consultancy.
“Are you working now?” they politely inquire.
“No, I just do a bit of writing.”