Do you ever have one of those days when you're mad at everyone in the world? There isn't a particular, discernible reason, but, well, you just are?
I had one of those weeks.You would think that having the kids back in school and a few extra moments to myself would have helped (and that's if you're counting moments to myself to include those with Clover and Drummer as my miniature sidekicks.)
The smallest of things would make my blood boil, a small toy left out, clothes hurriedly and haphazardly thrown on the floor, dribbles of water left for me to clean up (or slip in).
I didn't know how to get out from under the cloud that shadowed me.Yesterday I went to play my harp in a church across town. I took Divine and Clover. Clover was going to spend a few days with gammy and Divine is a helper extraordinaire, holding doors as I maneuver through with my lumbering instrument, carrying bench and stand, and fetching my music.
I got set up, tuned, and went through the hymn a few times. Then I was angry it was so hot and hastily pulled my hair back that I spent so long drying and straightening (which happens once a month or less).
I knew that my heart needed to be softened, and that I couldn't bring the spirit of peace with the mental writhing I had.
So I prayed fervently. It was only a minute at the most, but I admitted my stubbornness and my anger. And I let it go and allowed it to be taken away.
I played with just a single mistake. By the end of the meeting I felt as though I had had a deep, long cry, the kind where you feel there is not a single tear more in your being and nothing left to do but sigh. My body was weary, but my heart had been mended.
As I sat down to write my thoughts, and I wondered if I would even share them here or not, I found photos of our last week before school started.
It was like a whisper, telling me I was doing okay. I was doing okay as a mother.
My children are happy and loved.
I am not perfect. We are not perfect parents.
I lose my temper far too often.
I allow trivialities to provoke my anger.
I expect too much.
My priorities get jumbled.But, I love that I am allowed to make mistakes, that the metaphorical big pink eraser is used over and over, without ever wearing out my paper.
We had a very deliberate last week of summer vacation, listing the activities everyone wanted to do before school was upon us, penciling them into a schedule.
We went to a movie with the 3 oldest, and I got to touch legs with my love and eat artificial-everything-laden, overly salted popcorn.
We took them to the craft store to pick out an art project and supplies.We went to a dumpy little arcade to play old-school video games. I pretty much owned Galaga. Ryan racked up the tickets with Skee-ball.
We spent one morning dreaming of possible ways to "help" Olive lose her tooth. The favorite was tying it to a bowling ball and throwing it down the lane, and then it would come up in the ball return, ready for retrieval.
Azure added another year to her age, and got to decorate her own cake.
And now. It seems all is right in the world again.