So here I am, first blog post! I’m a mother to three crazy fun boys, a wife to a really smart, good looking, broad smiled guy, I read books, cook a lot, and I get kidney stones. (You’ll hear about that later, sorry.) Writing helps me make sense out of the world. I’m so glad you came to see me, and I’d love to know more of your story. In the meantime, hang with me, and we’ll talk over tea like grown-ups, and I’ll tell you all of mine.
The lights are out and I’m home.
These are the yearning years I think. When your children are small, and so demanding of your time: “Hey, do you want to play tea set with me?” “Mommy, wipe my bum bum!” “Look, I just learned how to make a whole liter of Daddy’s soda explode!” Or even in the still and quiet, as they are busily plotting the destruction of the house or creating their own space ships readying them for intergalactic battle. My gaze, my line of focus, is always downward.
I profess to you that I am yearning for downtime. Time at the computer to write. Time to read as the library queue has gotten heavy indeed. Time to think. The space to go to the bathroom by myself. But lately, just lately, I have considered that these yearning years are going to extend and extend on, and the yearning for alone time will be filled with yearning for those requests to see and be seen by my children. Because soon my approval on a project won’t be the ultimate in satisfaction for them. Because my presence at a tea party won’t be required. Soon, ever soon, the space on the refrigerator won’t be the coveted spot for a drawing.
The lights above, I just noticed, are out. And not just one mind you, but a whopping three as you can see.But my gaze has not been focused upward, it’s been down towards still forming hands and exquisite dreams that I’ve been privileged to witness.
“What in the world do you possibly do all day that you didn’t notice the kitchen lights are out?” A friend asked me, not unkindly. In the moments to respond, many thoughts came to mind: I picked up the missing Lego piece that completed the castle, I helped form the number 6 explaining the curl ended just once, I debated the merits of competing galaxies with a intrepid 8 year old, I saw a first grader figure out how to build a car on his own without his brother’s help, I did the washing and made pizza from scratch while letting a preschooler man the controls. “Well, I guess I just was busy minding the down,” I said, “instead of the up.”
So you, friend, I’m here to tell you, whether up or down, sideways or forward, you’re doing a pretty stellar job. Because even though staying in the moment seems so clichéd, it’s all we’ve got.
|manning the controls|
|i've got one named after me! better that than a tattoo!|
until next time...with love from my crazy crew and me. cheers.