Monthly Archives: February 2016

a lesson in acceptance

A few weekends ago my husband and I woke up on a Sunday morning and had a rare moment of clarity. The sun was shining, it was gloriously mild, the kids had been going a bit stir crazy the day before and all the homework had been completed. It was a perfect recipe for a day out. Last year we had decided to take the kids to Stonehenge en route to Glastonbury and had been gifted an English Heritage Membership Card as an early Christmas present from my mum. Ever since then if we have the energy and the time instead of doing our default trip to a nearby forest we sometimes swing by Audley End House, which costs a fortune before we had this red card but, for this year at least, is free.

So Audley End House had been decided on with the kids’ blessing, especially when I said we’d have lunch at the cafe and my daughter decided they probably do sausage rolls, her favourite.

We all piled into the car and we kept saying, wow this is what it’s like to be sorted and organized. You know one of those families that manages to get out of the house before ten o’clock. Somehow for us that has always been a struggle.

Partly because we are laid back people who believe we should all have a rest. Sunday mornings are lazy and porridge filled. The food theme continues, I usually cook something and we all sit down to break bread – often it’s the only family meal we get to eat together for the whole week.

There’s value in going slow, in allowing yourself to melt into a lazy Sunday morning with no plans. But with kids there will always come a point when daylight, fresh air and a leg stretch are very much needed. And at that point we’ll roll out of the house, not quite sure what to do or where to go, there’ll be no packed lunch made, we’ll arrive at said local forest and people are queuing round the block to get in, the kids start kicking the backs of the seats and are complaining they’re hungry, you look at the clock and realise somehow it’s 2pm already and then dark thoughts creep in about the weekend being nearly over already and you’ve only just managed to drag yourself out of the house.

So it’s a balancing act, like everything in life. But on this Sunday we felt we’d got it right. We hadn’t cajoled anyone to hurry or rush, it had still been a fairly lazy and porridge filled start to the day but miraculously we were sitting in the car, sun shining and it was only 10.45am. And we had a plan and everyone was happy with it.

Fast forward fifteen minutes and we are still sitting on the drive, kids kicking the backs of our seats and tempers in the back are getting frayed. The car won’t start, for the second time this year. I feel disappointment wash over me. We were like the f-ing Von Trapps for once in our lives and then how does fate repay us?

The car will not move. It’s not budging, something is severely wrong with the brakes. And so we stay put. Back to thinking on our feet, a skill I was usually good at pre-kids, but add whining and kicking seats and suddenly quick thinking gets clouded.

I can feel disappointment wash over me and I am aware that a behavior trait pre-mindfulness would be getting angry – at the car, the situation and then shutting down – ignoring it all, going online, using the whole situation as an excuse to disconnect from my family. What’s interesting to me was on that day I felt pulled towards all those things but somehow there was space and distance to not go down that well-trodden path.

‘Let’s go to the allotment instead,’ I said cheerily hiding my disappointment that was just as real as theirs. Both sighed heavily. ‘My sausage roll!’ was the only audible comment from my daughter. ¬†‘TV?’ offered my youngest.

‘Allotment and a pub lunch?’ I offered again. They grumbled and plodded all the way to the allotment as we left my husband to call the AA and wait. But once at the plot they played on the rope swing, got muddy and soon forgot about Audley End. I got some weeding done and then took them for that promised pub lunch. My husband was able to join us as they played in the pub garden in the sunshine and then the youngest suggested we walk along this muddy path we’d discovered.

We went for this local walk in the bright sunshine, the kids getting even muddier, stopping to chat to every dog walker who passed by. It’s a path I have never had time to explore in four years of living here. It hadn’t been the day trip we had envisaged but it taught me a lot about acceptance and how everyday is a chance to tread different paths.

Today’s¬†Total Practice Time: 20 minutes

Young Woman Meditating on the Floor