I’m finding it difficult to want to sit down and write again tonight. This is becoming a recurring problem. It’s summer’s fault. Sitting down to write when the weather tempts me to do so many other things – well, this requires some discipline. Let’s hope I have enough of it.
It was another one of those wonderful weekend days. A day with nothing planned, nowhere to rush to and impromptu meet-ups that simply made the day happy. It ended with my girls and I crashing a friends’ family night out and, somehow, I came home with one less kid. How does that always happen?
Somewhere in the middle of the day, my youngest daughter gave me a good laugh with another one of her crazy thoughts. It reminded me of some of the silly things that I used to journal and, eventually, blog about. Those silly things that kids say, in the middle of a crazy day, that make you sit down right where you are and laugh just when you need to most.
When my oldest was just two years old and I was newly pregnant with my youngest, I had one of those moments. It was shortly before the holidays and I had a million things to do. Like most stay-at-home moms of toddlers, I felt as though I’d lived two full days before serving lunch. I remember desperately trying to get a load of laundry in the wash while my daughter waited impatiently for me to sit down with her and read a book before her afternoon nap. She was picking up clothes, then adding more clothes to the pile, then trying dirty clothes on her head.
I just wanted to do a load of laundry!
“Mommy has lost her patience,” I was breathless by this point. “Stop it and go sit inside until I’m done.”
I turned my back to her, leaning down to pick up the remaining laundry. That was when I heard her little voice behind me.
“But Mommy,” she said, “where did your patience go?”
I collapsed into the laundry pile, a deep breath escaping, before bursting into full blown laughter. I needed that.
Fast forward to this afternoon. My youngest daughter and I were busy planning a trip to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. We buried our noses in my laptop, reading about all of our options. We decided that we didn’t want to simply stand at her base and stare up at Ms. Liberty. We wanted to climb to her crown. My daughter took over and started scanning the pages of information. She found a close up view of the Statue – her face and crown on full display.
“Wait,” she stared for a moment before going on. “You mean to tell me that when we climb up there we’re going to be looking out her nose? Like we’re her boogers?”
I stared in total disbelief for a moment. Where did this child come from? And then I fell over, bursting into full blown laughter.