Routines

Last Tuesday was the first day back home after my father's memorial service and our house was a disaster.

Hmm. Can I convince her that folding is a game?

Being gone was rough and even when we were home for a bit last week, I wasn't really "there"; I was distracted, shell shocked, and/or pondering what I felt was best to say at my father's funeral. Then for days after the funeral, I felt raw. The way I explained it was that I felt that I had lost a layer of skin during the process and the world just "felt" like too much. I needed time to grow it back.

Unfortunately, the house was just so massively chaotic that I felt it was doing the opposite of healing. I felt off... like I needed my routine back and all the mess was in the way. So Tuesday became cleaning day so I could revive some sort of structure in my life.

I felt bad taking one of my precious Tuesdays and allowing housecleaning to share priority status with my daughter, but returning to a familiar environment and routine (10:30 am feeding, 11 am nap, 2 pm feeding, and so on) seemed to be very comforting for Cleo. I forget sometimes that she's not just "some baby", but she's MY baby and possibly shares a lot of the same needs as me.

Yes, that is actually me.

Case in point: Juggling. I've gone through multiple phases in the past where juggling was my go to hobby. Balls, clubs, rings, contact juggling, juggling things on fire, uni-cycling... I've given all a whirl and gotten to the "adequate but not ready for performance" status in most of them. People with kids find out that I juggle and are often like "Oh! Juggle something for my little Jimmikins (or whatever the kid's name is)!"

So I juggle and Jimmikins really doesn't give a crap about it and is MUCH more fascinated by what he just found in his nose. For the most part, I assume that kids aren't really interested in juggling unless it's part of a show with noise, bright lights, costumes, and trained dogs. It's an ADDITION to a spectacle for most kids, not the spectacle itself. (The lone exception I've found to this is fire juggling.)

So while I was putting away the laundry, I grabbed some of the tennis balls we throw into the drier with the clothes and did a basic cascade with them. I kind of felt her gaze on me, so I looked over to the boppy where Cleo was propped up and there she was, eyes wide open, jaw dropped. So despite my rustiness, I did a little routine (columns, reverse cascade, Mill's Mess) expecting her attention to drop off.

Obviously has goofball DNA

Not one bit. Her eyes were fixed firmly on what I was doing the whole time and smiling.

I was stunned that a kid would actually pay attention to this, but I suppose I shouldn't have been since it makes sense. I LOVE juggling and have always been drawn to it, so why wouldn't a tyke who shares my DNA not share some similar fascinations?

The house is still kind of a mess, but next week I'll adventure into storage, find my old juggling gear, dust it off, and give things a whirl. To tell the truth, I already feel good about this. I find it funny that I was searching for comfort in routine and I ultimately found it... in a little juggling routine and the joy my kid got out of it.