Motherhood in the Mundane Maia.

You hear that ever familiar pitter patter of small feet heading towards your bedroom, you check the clock, 4:30am. “Mummy…?” “Yes darl?”, “I had a accident”.

You take a breath out, swing your legs out of bed, put your feet on the floor. Nearing four years of broken sleep, your energy is low, everything feels heavy. You sit on the edge of the bed for a moment and feel that ever familiar tension in your shoulders and neck before you say with your nicest mummy voice “that’s okay darl, climb up here. Go back to sleep, mummy will sort it out”.

Making your way through the house 4:45am in the pitch black on a route that’s almost been carved out into the floor it’s walked so often, you wonder “why do I feel so over this, I wanted these children, I brought them here I have no right to feel so bitter about mothering them”. A bed strip and remake, sheets into the wash, you know this dance like the back of your hand. You begin on route back to bed when you hear the baby monitor click on, bubs is stirring. Your heart sinks. You know that 4:29am was the last minute of sleep you were going to have for this day. You spin around and head back on your carved out hall highway to bubs room, the bitterness rising in your chest. You crack the door open and bubs is legs in the air exploring toes with a cheeky grin. All is forgiven in that moment and you remember why you began this journey in the first place.

You do milk for bubs and get lucky with a resettle after a nappy change and some rocking. You place bubs back into their crib and again begin the familiar route back to bed. It’s getting lighter now, 5:30am, there is this emerging day that is almost racing you to be here while you are racing to get just a few more moments shut eye. Tip toe, peel back the covers, slide in… ahhhhhh a breath out as you sink back into the mattress. You lay for a bit returning your breathing back to normal, you always hold your breath when you don’t want to wake the little one. Just as you begin to relax and drift… “Mummy..?” “Yes dear?”, “I’m awake now”. Your eyes flick open, there’s a sadness, mixed with frustration, mixed with defeat. You double tap the faithful screen on your bedside table and see the all familiar glow of 6:00am. Once again you swing your legs out of the side of the bed, breathe out the defeat as your feet hit the floor. The endless cycle of household chores, feeding children & wiping bums begins.

Breakfast is upbeat and enthusiastic for the little one, toast and berries. Sometimes a yoghurt, chitter chatter and excitement about the day ahead as they look out the window. You’ve flicked the coffee pot on twice now and have failed to capture hot enough water for a cup of coffee yet. Frustration building as you pick up toast off of the floor.

Playing and feeding bubs for a short while, during which time the little one manages to draw on the kitchen wall with a light blue crayon, empty 2 cupboards in the laundry and 976 pieces of Lego look like it threw up all over the lounge room floor. You flick the coffee pot back on and begin picking up the pieces, metaphorically and literally. “come one” your mind says, “You can’t be this low in energy all day, perk up, they deserve an energetic Mum”. You shake it off or suppress it down which ever works at the time. “Mummy, I need help?”.. you hear the little one call. bubs look pretty happy rolling around for the moment so pick your tired body up off the lounge room floor and head for the bathroom, every bit of you praying to some sort of omnipotent entity that the little one has not missed the toilet this time.

Butt wiping while bubs is screaming from the lounge room because they’ve been left alone for 0.4 seconds, you remember the coffee pot has gone cold again. The bitterness, has made a left turn towards frustration and looks as though its headed for anger shortly. Your mind throws in an “for F*$K S@ke I’m over this crap” as your notice there’s wee on the floor. You make the call to spend the extra minute cleaning that up. A call you’ll soon regret, but right now its kind of peaceful on you hands and knees on the toilet floor. Heading on a mission back to the coffee pot for the win this time, you notice the fridge door open. Frozen you listen. Giggling, no not giggling… cackling. Your heart sinks deep into your stomach as your spin around and see a dozen eggs, a carpeted lounge room, and the little one and bubs having an egg smash-off. What happens next is a blur. If the neighbours heard it you are sure that child services will be around shortly. You yell, you cry, you sound a lot like your own mother, your exhausted. You’re hungry. You’ve put in 10,000 steps already and its only 9am. All you want is that damn coffee. Sobbing on the egg washed carpet, the CEO in your head on repeat “there has to be more than this, there’s got to be another way, this parenting gig is BS, you want out, your trapped”. Feelings of mum guilt and shame swirl around in your chest as you apologise to the little one for yelling. The little one’s cool with it, already onto the next mission…

Sound familiar?! Many people on the planet are parenting this way. Reactive, unaware, frustrated, bitter, angry, disappointed. Counting down the days until the children grown up. Personally, I have had many, and still occasionally do, have days where my not-self is rife with bitterness as I claw my way through the knee deep pile of laundry that needs folding. The mundane of motherhood can be a murderer of the zest for life. It can drag the best of us to our knees. Awareness is the antidote to the not-self taking over and controlling our lives. And it’s not that the not-self needs to go away. The not-self is so integral to the experiment and living your design. The not-self becomes septic when it starts to take over and run the show more often than not. The not-self is septic once it is dictating every action you take. Awareness does not make the not-self disappear. It simply neutralizes it’s impact and leaves you with greater wisdom about yourself. This is what living your experiment is all about. Let me demonstrate to you the difference. Let’s take it from the top…

You hear that ever familiar pitter patter of small feet heading towards your bedroom. “Mummy…?” “Yes darl?”, “I had a accident”. Your little Manifestor informs. You adore the way your little Mani knows to inform the person who is going to be affected by their actions. You check the clock, 4:30am. The little Mani has an undefined spleen and it comes searching for your defined spleen the same time every morning. You take a breath out, swing your legs out of bed, put your feet on the floor. The spleen thing is certainly frustrating. You the one conditioning your little one daily with that safety and security of the defined spleen, but there is nothing you can do about it, it has it’s own timing and eventually the little one’s sense of safety will come. Nearing four years of broken sleep, your energy is low, everything feels heavy. You’re a Splenic Projector and this ‘doing’ all the days is getting a tad tiresome. “That’s okay darl, climb up here. Go back to sleep, mummy will sort it out”, you throw in a “you are safe buddy”, just because you are aware of the Spleen dynamic,  “okay mummy, thank you”.

Making your way through the house 4:45am in the pitch black on a route that’s almost been carved out into the floor it’s walked so often, you hear the first peep out of the not-self for the day “I’m so over this mumming gig, when are these kids going to learn to sleep” ah hello there old friend, you smile as your observe the internal monologue. A bed strip and remake, sheets into the wash, you know this dance like the back of your hand. Parenting is somewhat a system, and boy do you hack systems. You begin on route back to bed when you hear the baby monitor click on, bubs is stirring. You know that 4:29am was the last minute of sleep you were going to have for this day, luckily the transits are activating the sacral for you at the moment, you’ll be borrowing that energy later. You spin around and head back on your carved out hall-highway to bubs room. Your undefined head starts pondering if they call this a hallway because it’s used as frequently as a highway? You let that one go. The undefined head does love to ponder all the things and you are going into bub’s auras. Bub’s has a defined head and Ajna so you don’t want to get stuck with the pressure to figure out the origins of the word hallway at this time of the morning.

You crack the door open and bubs is legs in the air exploring toes with a cheeky grin. This one’s a Projector kiddo so you know there’s a good chance for more sleep. Third colour thirst determination makes this is the fourth feed for bubs overnight, but what to do, you know that the hydration is extremely important. Bub’s quickly resettles after some rocking. That rocking motion always does the trick with a shores bub, maybe it’s something about the constantly changing view of the world, you can feel your head beginning to ponder the Shores environment and why this kids love to rock. Your husband is a Shores environment too and he often tells a story about rocking himself as child to soothe himself so there must be something to it. Oh the head pressure, thanks Bubs. You look down and Bubs has drifted back off. You place Bubs back into the crib and again begin the familiar route back to bed.

It’s getting lighter now, 5:30am, there is this emerging day that is almost racing you to be here while you are racing to get just a few more moments shut eye. “#projectorlife” your mind giggles. Tip toe, peel back the covers, slide in… ahhhhhh a breath out as you sink back into the mattress. You lay for a bit returning your breathing back to normal, you always hold your breath when you don’t want to wake the little one. Just as you begin to relax and drift… “Mummy..?” “Yes dear?”, “I’m awake to start the day now” the little Mani informs. Your eyes flick open, you double tap the faithful screen on your bedside table and see the all familiar glow of 6:00 am. Once again you raise your body, swing your legs out to the side of the bed, breathe out as your feet hit the floor. The current program with the sacral lit AF is going to be your only ally today for endless cycle of household chores, feeding children & wiping bums.

Breakfast is a 2 hour long ordeal when mothering one child that’s left brained and one child that’s right brained. One’s hungry as soon as they wake up, the other sort of picks and isn’t really interested until after about 2 hours of being awake. One is low sounds determination so it’s noise cancelling headphones and toast and berries. The other, a cold thirst banana smoothie kiddo. Both are shores and both naturally love to sit near the windows at breakfast time. You’ve flicked the coffee pot on twice now and have failed to capture hot enough water for a cup of coffee yet. Frustration building as you pick up toast off the floor. Your not-self sometimes hates the ‘doing’ of motherhood. It feels draining and hard but knowing you’re a non-sacral aids the understanding of that inner bitterness that builds up.

You spend some time with the baby Projector, playing on the floor, allowing them to lead the play, guiding you on what to do next, clapping and cheering like a manic giving recognition. Recognition is important to this one. While you’ve been focused on bubs your little Mani has been on a mission and has managed to draw on the kitchen wall with a light blue crayon, empty two of the laundry cupboards and 976 pieces of Lego looks like it threw up all over the lounge room floor. “Shit, you should have been watching both of them” you observe the inner monologue of your not-self. Your aura is limited that way and you know it. It locks onto one and focuses. It’s a constant struggle to be present and flick and switch your attention between the two children. It’s a limitation while they are small and both require so much attention but you know as they grow your ability to give your undivided attention to them individually will be an absolute gift.

There’s something a tad scary about a 3 year old Manifestor on a mission but within the trail of chaos there is this delicious peaceful energy that is like an potent addictive aroma that you wish you could bottle. You try to work out what the mission is but you also know that your projector aura is poking and prying and is somewhat annoying so you stay as far out of it as you can while its safe. You take a look around the house. Its 8:30 am and it looks like a 27 children have been around for a party. You flick the coffee pot back on and begin picking up the pieces, metaphorically and literally. You’re already getting tired. “come on” your mind says, “You can’t be this low in energy already, perk up, they deserve an energetic Mum”, what an interesting thought. Then you observe “Karen across the road’s house is always spick and span and she has three children”. Ooofffff thanks not-self that one was harsh mate. You talk to yourself these day’s like you are co-parenting with your not-self and have to discuss your approach with each other. You allow those thoughts to pass through. You undefined Head and Ajna love to torment you. “Mummy, I need help?”.. you hear the little one call. That’s about as good as an invitation gets for your guidance in this season of life, and while it’s not exactly your area of interest, it sparks your need motivation into action. Bubs look pretty happy rolling around for the moment so pick you heavy body off the lounge room floor and head for the bathroom, every bit of you praying to some sort of omnipotent entity that the little one has not missed the toilet this time. When a Manifestor toilet trains you have no choice but to allow the process to run its course.

Butt wiping now arguing with the emotional Mani because you’ve had to take over and control the situation that’s become somewhat unhygienic. Taking control of a Mani’s mission is never something that goes down smoothly. Bubs is screaming from the lounge room because they’ve been left alone for 0.4 seconds. That split definition and being the one who bridges the gates is something so foreign to what you know being a single definition yourself. You remember the coffee pot has gone cold again. The bitterness, has made a left turn towards frustration and you can now feel anger bubbling up inside. Your mind throws in an “For F*$K S@ke I’m over this crap” as your notice there’s wee on the floor. The anger you feeling has been absorbed through your Solar Plexus, you know that, but boy oh boy it feels intense. The not-self mind is trying to own it and weaponize it. Your body is just trying to shift it out of your form. Your defined heart kicks in now and you are headed on a mission back to the coffee pot for the win this time. You deserve a bloody coffee. Everything else can wait. You notice the fridge door open. Frozen you listen. Giggling, no not giggling… cackling. Your heart sinks deep into to your stomach as your spin around and see a dozen eggs, a carpeted lounge room, the little one and bubs having an egg smash-off.

The not-self game is strong today and even though you have an awareness of it and are able to discern when the passenger has taken the wheel, it’s still able to take that wheel and steer the whole vehicle. You’re not some Buddha on a hilltop you are human after all, having a very real human experience. You yell, you cry, you sound a lot like your own mother, your exhausted. You’re hungry, you’ve put in 10,000 steps already and its only 9am. All you want is that damn coffee. Sobbing on the egg-washed carpet. You hear the not-self again “FAAAR OUT, I can’t do this for another damn day” then the good old not-self throws in the kicker, the one completely open center in your design, the G-Center’s not-self voice strikes like shiv to the side of your ribs “what the hell are you doing with your life? There has to be more to life than this.”

You sit for a moment and compose yourself bringing your full awareness to the moment. Awareness to the movie that’s playing. Awareness to the passenger and the homogenised script that you think your life has to run by. Your perspective shifts. You are a Projector mum, your single definition is begging for a moment alone, your undefined Sacral is begging for a rest, your very defined Spleen has activated survival mode, your defined Heart is demanding a coffee that you deserve, your undefined Solar Plexus is being conditioned daily by 3 year old emotional Manifestor, your attention and focus has been spent for the day and to be completely honest all you really want to do is sink your teeth into that new online course you purchased last week. That’s where you want to be. It’s no wonder your fuse is short and energy is low. You zoom out even further to see more of the movie screen.

You have a Manifestor child who is learning to experience the highs and lows of their transitoriness wave. You’re the practice person for learning the impact that their aura has, and while it’s one of the single most hardest seasons of your life, you know that raising that Manifestor child correctly is going to have the most profound ripple effect on humanity in years to come. Oh the things that could be created, manifested, started, the possibilities are endless the benefits greatly outweigh the number of eggs that’s been smashed on your lounge room floor.

You have a Projector child who is learning daily that the invitation and recognition is everything they will ever need to succeed. By spending the time in that focused one on one interaction you know you are modelling the penetrating attention that the projector aura has. Each day your little projector is learning the skills and experiencing what it feels like to guide another. You know that this child feels alien to the world. You know that by learning how to relate with others through the investment of invitations there is going to be such success in life, not just for this little one, but also for those that are privy to that attention and guidance in later years.

You zoom out even further now, you can see the entire movie screen. Children being raised in accordance to their designs. Guiding these children and allowing them to develop differentiated as their own unique beings in the world is the single most important invitation you may ever invest your energy in. There may be very little recognition for this season of motherhood but the success there. It’s so so there. Every situation their strategy is followed you feel that projector success. Every time they honour their own inner authorities to make a decision the success is there. Every time they listen to their bodies over their not-self minds the success is there. Every time you step out into the homogenised world and the other 96% are marching to the beat of a conditioned rum-pa-pum-pum, like programmed robots, while your children are skipping, dancing, walking sideways navigating a unique path of their own… the success is there.

And while it may seem as though your so far from your own alignment that your only reliable friend is your not-self, there is a lot of your own mastery that’s being refined during this season called motherhood. Having little ones using you as their training ground for the big wide world is ultimate sacrifice. But witnessing them moving through life along their own line of geometry, sovereign in their being, is the ultimate success. Hang in there Mumma.

Now you’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got eggy carpets to clean.  

GLOSSARY

Determination: First variable colour that mentions your digestion type

Cold thirst: one of the 12 determinations.

Low sounds: one of the 12 determinations

Shores: of the 6 different environment variables.

Split definition: a split in the definition of ones design.

Single definition: no split in the definition of ones design.

Not-self: The voice of the passenger with no consideration for the vehicle. The voice or the thoughts of ones undefined or open centers.