I like writing. So I have to remember when I am feeling all huffy about never getting a say in how I spend my day that I DO get to write. It's not always blissfully quiet when I sit here trying to string two thoughts together, but this morning it is. That's because I half-assed it on the morning work, and yes I do know that's a bad word, but nothing else fits so perfectly to describe how I wiped down the counters, swept the floors, straightened the couch covers, washed the popcorn pan and bowls from last night, and put on a pot of coffee before beelining it to this comfy chair, to sneak in this very quiet time before the homeschooled kids get up. And that was AFTER I conversed with my three daughters who still go to real school, Sonja 13, Suzanne 14, and Evelyn Joy 16. Suze keeps a low profile in the morning, very quiet. Too quiet sometimes and I worry. Sonja and Evelyn are like dynamite and a match. This morning for instance, I was telling a story about when Ben was a newborn baby and I went Christmas shopping with him. Back then, I told the girls, there weren't yet infant car seats. A baby went into a large convertible style seat in the car, then was taken out of it, and brought into store or where ever, in the arms of his caretaker. So I used a regular little babyseat, the kind one used on a countertop, to put him in when we got into the toy store that day, in the back of the shopping cart. As I stopped to browse in the doll aisle, a woman took a large box from the shelf, set it on the cart directly over where baby Benjy sat in his infant seat, and started to open up the box. Um, I am a real nice lady, but the mama bear in me came out that day.
Anyhoo. When I tell these stories, the kids look at each other, raise their eyebrows, and say that Mom's old. Imagine, a world without infant carseats. Anyway, Sonja started decided it was 'fessing up time, and started telling stories about eating all of Evelyn's gummy candy that she got for her birthday from Uncle Bob, to which Evelyn replied, "Do you hate me? Why do you always take MY stuff." (Sonja DID steal Evelyn's sweater just yesterday, but Sonja called it "borrowing".)
So yeah, a nice smooth morning that ended with three girls dashing for the bus, leaving one lunch on the countertop. I am not one of those mom's who knows exactly who what lunch belongs with, so I waited for the text...it is Evelyn's. Yes, I will bring it to school for you, because I agree, you can't starve. But shh, don't tell Sonja, she forgot her lunch last week when it was cold and rainy, and shh, Bad Mom Award, I told her to borrow from the lunch ladies and eat a school lunch.
I have been thinking a bit about doing what one likes. It IS golden, to sit here in the quiet and tap out my thoughts. It clears my head. And that's okay, to strive to fit it in. But. As I go about my day, more likely than not, most of the things I occupy myself with are things I wouldn't exactly choose to do. In this lies the old cliche, Like What You Do, instead of Do What You Like. It's a good work to learn to be content, and to be thankful for whatever God sends each day. And it is a constant work. It's easy to waste the days being miserable because nothing goes the way I want it to. That misery effects everyone around me. And that is how sin destroys, wrecks, and divides. Choosing to fight those thoughts of Poor Me, and the anxiety about money, and worry about how the kids are behaving, and the reports I need to do for school (dang, I have to get those in!!)...it's a good fight...one that brings joy in the midst of noise and chaos, and goodness instead of answering back, kindness instead of being harsh and critical. It's a learning process, but a good fight.
The days are simply not long enough to do all the things we need to do, and I want life to just go on and on. That's one of the things that really tempts me to freak out, honestly, thinking of how mortal we all are. Just a thought flitting through my mind of something happening to one of the kids, and I can't handle it, I simply have to remember that God has all of this, I don't need to fret about it. I enjoy life, though, and sometimes I think, "Well, I'm fifty, so if I'm lucky, I get another 30-40 years...so I am already over halfway through my ride through life..." Again, God HAS this. I don't need to worry about it. But those thoughts do come.
Anyway. Today is all I need to be concerned with, and today we are going to do some school, go to the library, and perhaps start some Christmas shopping. And I need to write reports...:)