{Tea with me} A loss of rhythm

The kettle has boiled and I am sipping on chamomile tea as I type. Chamomile tea is known for it’s calming effect. I need a need a big pot because; calm is something I have not been. I feel as though I have lost my rhythm.

It doesn’t seem that long ago that my days had a different beat. Days were filled with nursing our baby in our open light-filled lounge-room, where the corner of our large lounge would invite me in and I would close my eyes as the sun hit my face every morning. I had our baby in my arms and I would cuddle him, nurse him, smile at him and swoon as the minutes ticked and the hours past. The only need for us to leave the lounge was for tea and food. Mr.Kypo took care of the rest.

My days now are a fast rhythm and I can’t seem to keep up with the beat. There are some nights I rest my head on my pillow and my body seeks comfort in our bed and I dream of those slow days.

I have returned to work much earlier than I wanted. Rather than fighting the resistance I felt about this, I laid down the armour and surrendered the fight.

Before the surrender there were tears, gulping tears, screams and an outrage of anger and resentment. I didn’t want to leave our baby with Mr.Kypo. I wanted him all to myself. When the resistance past I could see clearly. I could hear reason.

We own our businesses that I run and financially we could not afford to have both Mr.Kypo and I at home.

Since returning to work a few months ago I enjoy them. I am inspired and enthused to be the best Educator I can be, however,  I feel as though I have let my family down.

There are days, I walk through the door without patience and I am exhausted. I wander our home and see mess and unfinished tasks and it consumes me that I cannot manage it all.

I snap at Mr.Kypo and the kidlets when they cannot read my mind and fear is running through my body. When I manage to breathe, I vow I won’t take it out on them again.

Some nights when I cuddle our baby before he drifts off to slumber, I look into his eyes with question and wonder. Does he know think I have left him when I leave and wait for my return? Does he miss me? I know he misses me. They all do. Their faces say all the words when I walk through the door. Their touch. The arms that wrap around my neck, the smothering of kisses and none of us want to let go first.

I am reassured that these thoughts of loss, guilt and lack of rhythm pass. They did with the other kidlets. But, for now I tell myself to continue to push down these feelings and replace them with immense gratitude. Gratitude for the businesses that allows me flexibility and for a rocking husband who is a present devoted husband and dada.