some days i awake with fresh eagerness to embrace the day.
breakfast is being made with music playing, kids laughing, Henry (our yellow lab pup) vying for attention.
after checking the weather we plan our day with a piece of construction paper and a crayola marker. i answer curious questions from intelligent children as we grab watercolor supplies and spread out at the dining table with jars of clean water, hundreds of brushes in various sizes & shapes, small plates for mixing colors and a topic like “farm” where we each decide what that means… i begin painting my dream vegetable garden for next summer while the children construct pastures, fences & barns that are full of animals that have names.
THEN… something happens.
most days it seems >>> something happens.
something interrupts our day. our plans. our peace & calm.
something requires my immediate attention.
not because i was asked for my day to be interrupted.
not because i desire to be pulled from the very purpose my core yearns after; teaching my children. raising them up in the way they should go.
a fire burning hot – immediately requiring all of my attention to squash the flames.
for some, a fire could be a car that won’t start. sitting in the drive with no function while the hours pass by waiting for repair.
for some, a fire could be a notification that someone is in an account that does not belong in an account.
for some, a fire could be a reminder call about an appointment that was not jotted down on the calendar.
for some, a fire could be having to wash the dishes again because there are no extra sets of hands today to help with the daily grinding chores… and i don’t want my children to do chores today — i just want them to play & paint & color & soak in the very fleeting moments of simple childhood.
i have decided… thanks to my sweet best friend that always has good words to live by.
will not win.
will not beat me.
will not be allowed to interrupt my day.
is toxic & daunting.
does not belong among this home or for my children to witness.
a lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine.
we will sit here and drink mini soda’s with our pinkies raised high.
we will watercolor plants, animals, berries, facial expressions and laugh together while creating memories of goodness.
we will enjoy moments with Henry.
we will sit on tire swings and think about how old the trees are and what color the leaves might turn when fall arrives.
goodbye fires. you are no good for me.
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