Remnants of Christmas cheer hang about my dust filled lounge room as I search for the motivation to move from one celebration to the next.
Stomping little feet and cheery voices rise and fall through the house and into the garden signalling the freedom of summer holidays.
I’m caught in the middle.
Stuck between cleaning up the scattered detritus of present opening, playdates and everyday life, or joining the fun and running with grass beneath our feet and the sun soaking into our faces.
The lure of forgetting all responsibilities is tempting, but adults can’t simply forget. The gift my parents gave me was the freedom to enjoy being a child, and it’s a gift I will pay forward.
But I want to be present. A part of the summer memories my children are building in their minds.
So I’ll compromise, walk the line, create a welcoming space while making the time.