The house is quiet tonight. Elizabeth has been tucked in her crib for quite some time. Emma went to bed extra early after a meltdown. Dan fell asleep on the sofa after a tough day at work. And Mary was my sidekick, helping me finish up the last dinner dishes, setting the table for breakfast and sneaking off to her bed "quiet as a church mouse."
When I disappear from my blog, like I did last week, it is usually a sign that I’m overextended or something in my life is leaving me uninspired. And to be honest, I’m rarely that busy, so generally, it’s the latter. This last week, it has been continued battles with my dear six year old. Is there something about this age? Is it spring fever? I’m not sure, but I’m pulling out all my parenting know-how, all my former teacher know-how, all my "someone I know tried this" know-how, and I’m having little success. I love the girl for the way she feels her way through life, and dives into everything to the fullest–but at the same time–she feels everything and dives into everything to the fullest. It means lots of emotions, and ups and downs, and hurt feelings, and disappointment, and frustration….phew. I can hear my mother’s wisdom in my ears, "This too shall pass." I’m holding on to that truth.
So for me, it means I need to work harder to find my moments to refuel and relax. I found one moment this evening–dinner was warming on the stove, Dan and the girls were off on a quick errand and Elizabeth was asleep. I stuffed the baby monitor in my coat, a pair of scissors in my back pocket and headed down to my grandmother’s gardens for something to brighten up my table.
The sun was golden and the air was perfectly crisp. It was the breath of air in my lungs that I needed in order to face the rest of my evening with grace and joy.
And now, a quiet house, a kitchen "put to rights" (to quote Mr. Berry), some daffodils on my table, a dark house, except for the glow at my desk, and the prospect of a warm bed and a good book. Another breath of air in my lungs, a release for my mind and my heart and I’m ready to face another day with joy and grace.
And I hope you’ll see me here again tomorrow. That will be a good sign.