some days i hate my brain. how it’s all grown up & crammed with thoughts that wear me out.
where are the good thoughts?
this morning, kieran asked if we could pleasepleaseplease play in the backyard. my overly large, pregnant self thought that was just a terrible idea, hauling these 30 extra pounds all the way to the back of the house, down two consecutive hills, on purpose.
but, little bean boy asked enough times, & i couldn’t formulate a good enough reason not to, so we trucked outside. &, of course, we got waylaid, because that’s what children do. (again, where are all the good thoughts?)
we ended up beside the big, ugly spruce in the middle of our yard, crouched down, finding wild strawberries.
as i sat there watching kieran, letting him dig through the pine branches for his tiny berry treasures, the thought came to me: seriously, what’s wrong with me? i’d rather be doing the dishes than out here with my small one-who’s-growing-way-too-fast? i’d rather check something off my list of productivity than hang out in this summer sun?
i sat there, letting all my grown-up-ness ebb over me, & i felt quite a bit ashamed.
& then? then, it happened. the push after the pull. all those grown-up responsibilities rolled off me, like a happy spring shower, & i could see.
i wanted to be there. i was doing the most productive thing possible at that moment. i was engaging in what-actually-matters.
& the interesting thing? there was resistance. i had to tunnel through the grown-up-ness to find my way into the lovely open field of just-sit-down-&-be. there’s a real & tangible something that would rather i let my days slip by, kids barely noticed, husband unconnected, quiet moments of peace & joy unheld.
frankly, this makes my blood boil. & dammit (sorry, mom), i’m not going to take it anymore.
i have one shot at this grand adventure i’ve been given, & i’m not letting it slip into the soap suds of the dishwater.
i’ve got much better things to do with my time, at 9 o’clock in the morning.