I really like routine.
I like having my days mapped out, and predictable.
Broken into mealtimes, and to-do's, and bedtime rituals.
It is comfortable and safe, I know what to expect, and they are the parts of my days I can actually control.
But the best days?
The best days happen when the plan is deviated from.
When breakfast turns into brunch, when the to-do's get scrapped for the let's-do's, and we stay up later than we should. The road less travelled, maybe.
Today, instead of the usual afternoon tea, followed by the kiddos homework, dinner, and the regular rhythms of evenings at home, we deviated from the plan.
Our spontaneous trip to the beach; a blanket and thermoses of hot milo thrown in, we stopped by the patisserie and sat by the bay - was the most freely I've been able to breathe all week.
They played in the shallows, built castles and stomped them down, and couldn't wipe the grins from their faces. The sky was moody with clouds and the breeze came in cool against the humidity, and we had the beach to ourselves, except for a couple of pelicans and the ever-present seagulls. I left my phone in the car, and my camera battery died after taking just a handful of pictures, and I was left, solitary on my woollen blanket to watch, breathe, and enjoy.
Inspiration at it's finest. And just maybe we'll work this into our weekly routine.*
*Once a lover of routine, always.