Remember that song? Can't, off the top of my head, recall the name of the band ("Trevor" comes to mind, but that's not right). Il pleut des grosses chats aujourdhui: too much bloody rain. But, moving on.
The nub of this post is self loathing: I get stressed, especially when I have competing obligations (eg work and children) and especially when trying to get somewhere on time (eg work, which requires dropping off children at two separate facilities first). My stress ruins the morning for everyone. Clara gets upset and clingy. Sometimes she even calls me out on "the line in my head" (deep increasingly permament furrow caused by needless stress). Winton gets less co-operative.
They say recognising you have a problem is the first step to solving it. I have a problem: stress.
Now why won't it go away?
There's an idyllic 10 minute period after my daily 30 minutes of yoga in the corner of the college basketball court in which I am relaxed. Carrying that feeling over into the rest of my day is proving impossible. Most of the time I feel like I am trying, by dint of thrusting my shoulders up to my ears, to catch up with and on to some invisible flying trapeze that will lift me away into a mood in which not every minute has two or more claims on it. Lots of work for the shoulders.
(I hardly ever think about my feet. You?)
To end on a more jovial note:
Winton provided this morning's dawn chorus (starting at 4.43). A full hour of "Mummy? Mummy! Mu-meee. Mummeeheee, Where. Are. you? Mummy? I love you!"
And then in the car he was yelling excitedly about a truck. Except he says the "tr" bit as an "f."
Truck indeed!
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