tides are shifting…slowly

Kate's blog

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After the weekend just gone I have to be honest with you, I’m second guessing my commitment to the world of polo now that I have a young family. The ground is absolutely sodden where I live, it squishes underfoot revealing rich, black mud. Polo has been cancelled over the last two weekends and our little globetrotting family has slipped into a languid rhythm surrounded by family and friends. Especially at the moment, where the working week is so incredibly hectic. I’m up at 4.15am each morning to trawl through emails and breath life into our spring edition of Salt Magazine. Our cheeky pops is in day care three days a week,  so I have one precious day with her mid-week which isn’t enough. When the weekends come around I’m gasping for air as if I’ve been held under water during the week. Weekends are for sleeping in, giggling with Finn and Buster our tripod family, not for spending days at a polo field. Once Finn was born I made a promise to myself to stay far, far away from my computer that equates to work and deadlines.

The weekend just gone was so spectacularly beautiful in every sense of the word. We’re in the thick of winter up here on the Sunshine Coast and the sun was warm enough to wear a t-shirt, cloudless, powder-blue skies greeted us each morning and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. Saturday and Sunday mornings always start the same, either Buster or I will collect Finn from her cot once she wakes (around 7am), and squirrel her away in our bed as if we’re floating on a white, fluffy cloud. We tickle, read books, talk and point at things. That’s her favourite thing to do at the moment. She points at something new and shapes her lips like she’s eating spaghetti and says ‘oooo’. As the sunshine fills our bedroom we’re as happy as can be with our bed hair, thankful that there are no commitments for the day. No rushing off to polo. I’m starting to believe, time is precious and swift at this stage in our life as a young family.

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On Sunday we went to the beach which is only twenty minutes from our hinterland home. Buster has sacrificed countless weekends to attend polo matches where he looks after Finn while I play the sport I love. This weekend he was able to surf, which he loves and after a couple of hours in the briny water he returns to the land cleansed, happier and invigorated. So while Buster surfed I went for a run with Finn in the pram, we ran alongside the ocean on a coastal pathway dodging walkers, kids, pooches whilst drinking in the salty air.

We then changed into our togs to enjoy the beach in all its sandy glory. It was low tide, so a perfect time of day for Finn to squish, dig, eat, pat, splash the wet caramel-coloured sand. She loved it! It wasn’t the first time she’s been to the beach, but at 14 months she loved it. Steven and I loved watching her crawl off in every direction to stop and pick up a stick or a stone and marvel at it before crawling on. She loved the waves that would ebb and flow around her feet and lose balance on her chubby feet as the wave sucked back into the ocean. She held our fingers tight, while she took tentative steps towards the crashing waves.

I found the time to make a lemon tart from our bounty of home-grown lemons, even made the short-crust pastry from scratch – thanks to the thermomix. Finn and I toiled together in the garden, I dug holes and planted bulbs while Finn equipped with her beach bucket and spade helped – well sort of. She marvelled at the wriggly worms that squirmed in the palm of her hand. I planted a sapling in memory of our dear Saffy who we lost a couple of weeks ago, a native tree that has Sapphire in its botanical name. A very special tree that my mother bought me.

I rode my horses on Saturday and Sunday and enjoyed it thoroughly. I slid up and down the hinterland hills, the ground wet and slippery underfoot (watch what I do here) and then practised the skills that I learnt at the Ken Faulkner clinic.

I feel replenished starting this working week. Unlike a weekend spent playing polo where we return late on a Sunday afternoon to feed and rug horses, a mountain of washing, no food cooked in preparation of the week, my body aching from being bashed on the polo field.

I’m sure there is a balance to be found. I’ll let you know when I find it. x

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