Life in this family has never particularly been ruled by routine (other than those externally imposed upon us, by school, work, etc). I do find, however, that there is a rhythm to our days and weeks. As the last few months have passed, we have settled in to being a family of five, and become accustomed to the new pattern of our days. I have become adept at finding small pockets of time each day in which to work. The bulk of this happens in the mornings, when the boy is at school, the little boy at preschool, and the baby taking a nap. Since Christmas, the boys have variously been ill, and at home, followed by a week off for half term. The rhythm, my lifeline, has been disrupted, lost.
This week, the boys return to school and preschool, and things are getting back to some kind of normality. I miss them, of course, but these quiet moments are the key to my sanity. I often forgo a hastily gobbled bowl of cereal in the hustle of school run preparations, preferring to wait for a quiet bowl of porridge with a hot cup of tea when I return. Monday mornings are the time for a blank page and fresh to do list in my Howkapow notebook. A pause, a breath, a sigh. The rhythm of my days is returning.