I keep trying to post here but then....
....these two little munchkins suggest we stop by the playground or go out to eat at D's or there's just really crazy free form art being created in our dining room by Laurel. Last night M prepared a cartoonishly large pot of milk to make skyr and we got the kids bathed and ready for bed in record time, but the weekend wasn't ready to be done with us. First Marko popped back up, then Laurel, then they were both up and we gave up on putting them back in bed. Everyone ate more food and read more stories and snuggled more. I tried not to look at the clock, or think about our alarms going off in the dark in the morning. We were all pleasant with each other, Laurel helping M out and Marko peering curiously into the giant pot. I gave up on waiting until the kids were in bed and just poured myself a glass of wine. I avoided wishing that all days were like weekends and dreading Monday and instead just enjoyed the moment for what it was. Sunday. Bluegrass on the radio. Cozy in our house, together. But still, this morning I was back to resenting that moment for being so fleeting, until my friend posted something about writing a "Get To Do" list instead of a "to do" list, and it was exactly what I needed to hear to just celebrate the fact that I "get to do payroll" this week (actually, it's super nice to have funding to compensate my wonderful teen employees), and "get to suspend some of those teens for ditching training" (because really, it's a privilege to be able to have a calm and respectful conversation with a teen about consequence and balancing our time and bus schedules, and watch them grow into their responsibilities).
Soon, it will be evening and my Get To Do's will be giving more baths and more stories and more snuggles and the rhythm continues. Mostly there's really ordinary things going on here, but it makes me think of what poet William Martin wrote:
Soon, it will be evening and my Get To Do's will be giving more baths and more stories and more snuggles and the rhythm continues. Mostly there's really ordinary things going on here, but it makes me think of what poet William Martin wrote:
Make the Ordinary Come Alive Do not ask your children to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,but it is a way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting tomatoes, apples, and pears.
Show them how to cry when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.