Sometimes life can be so daunting. So busy and methodical. Sure, sometimes that’s a good thing; being busy and all. But when it all catches up it’s absolutely exhausting. Today, three little reasons caused me to stop, take a breath and live in the moment we were currently in; not worry about the next, tomorrow or what hasn’t been accomplished.
I’ve been externing at two hospitals since late spring. It gives me the opportunity for exposure to skills and experience I might not otherwise see in school. It prepares me for my career. With that comes a lot of business and little time for pleasure. When I am home, lately, my days are filled with catching up on sleep from my 12 hour night shifts and tag teaming my husband as I walk in the door and he walks out for work (or vice versa). To say my days have been filled with methodical, busy and daunting experiences is to say the least. In the end I know what we are working for but I can’t help feel an emptiness that I am missing out on a summer of fun with my littles. So, today, as per usual, I came home from work. My husband left for his game soon after I arrived and I did anything I could think of to exhaust all energy out of my children so I could catch up on some shut eye. In the end, those little tykes created an abundance of energy from a source unknown and mama achieved little to no sleep, which is normal.
I decided to cook dinner and shortly thereafter was notified by our resident informant that it was raining and “it’s so cool, mom!” I ran outside to get the mail, and sure enough it was coming down pretty hard. We just recently moved and our new house has a pretty spectacular backyard that wraps from the side around to the back. It makes for an amazing fortress of adventure in the eyes of a child, something I am still able to somehow have insight to occasionally. I may not see it for what it is, but I understand the vast potential of trouble and imagination it encompasses. I decided to leave the door open to the let the dog outside and realized….. No thunder, no lightening. As my kids waited at the doors threshold, my youngest wildling (no surprise here) took off like a bolt into the rain. Next my oldest sheepishly jumped out and looked back for approval. I smiled and said, “You want to play in the rain?”…. You would have thought my name was Anna and snowman making was possible in July. Soon after number 2 ran out the door, then back in and then back out. So as dinner is in the oven (and smells divine I might add), I am sitting here watching. Observing. Listening. Loving.
Mom actually said yes to something cool. Being cool didn’t cost a thing.
I am writing from adulthood. I am writing from the other side of the sliding glass door in which my children are making mud pies, running freely in the rain with not a single care in the world. I am writing in admiration that their imaginations are endless and that they actually enjoy doing things like this. I am writing from a place where I feel semi guilty about writing this blog but knowing the inspiration and feeling I have at this moment may dissipate and I might not be able to put into words how cool this moment in adulthood is.
I am writing from adulthood, vicariously through childhood.
The Naturalist Mom
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