Wading

What is it with us moms? We’re so often so focused on finding the great recipes to feed our people, picking the perfect read-aloud, or balancing the best of the play dates and the free museum days and the opening of the splash pad that we forget to stop and abide– just linger — in the very season we are so grateful to be in.

Wading

And dads… you’re not off the hook either. Rushing out the door, working late, again, to keep up with the needs of the family … but missing out on being with that very family you’re working so hard to keep afloat.

Wading

 

Yesterday, I walked outside, plunked myself in a chair and declared it a planning morning. I set out some cardboard boxes, made sure everyone pottied before we went out, filled the water bottles, and grabbed my laptop. I am going to get this booklist done in one fell swoop! I told myself.

And then, reality.

“Momma! Watch me!”
“He pushed me! I said don’t push me on the swing, but he pushed me anyhow!”
“Do we have tape? I’m going in to look for some tape.”
“Jude is heading for the barn again, Momma!”

Within twenty minutes time, I knew I was sunk. I could fight and rant and grit my teeth in irritation, or …

Wading

 

Or we could head down to the creek, and let the cold water ripple over our toes. We could watch the blue and black damsel flies dancing, and listen to the cicadas. We could play Pooh Sticks, and find crawdad holes.

Wading

I could get frustrated that my plan for making sure the next few months are amazing was stymied, or I could live the amazing here, now. The planning? It was a good thing. But the wading? It was the best.