It's late at night and I am sitting on the bed thinking about enough. I have an ice pack around my foot and a heating pad around my neck, with the sticky goo of a honey facial scrub on my cheeks. From my toes to my ears, I go from one extreme to other.
And it's a lot like our journey. Switching from homeschooling to public school has left me feeling like I have whiplash half the time. The homework to juggle, the lunches to pack, the pick up line to wait in, and the tears of the one who doesn't want to go. There's also the tears of that same one over the naughty kids, who don't listen to teacher and who sneak forbidden items into school. All in first grade.
I spent Monday evening lamenting the fact that our family time has eroded away. From school to ballet, throw in homework and piano practice, add a few chores and the day is done. And I feel like the time I have is not enough. Maybe it's because we homeschooled, maybe because I read to much Little House on the Praire, but I often idealize our family time. I imagine quiet evenings reading the classics to my kids, while they sit enraptured by tall tales. And in real life we're fighting over whose turn it is to do the dishes and who borrowed whose socks without permission. So I mourn over what I haven't done. And while I do that I miss the joyful moments that are happening all around me. I fret over the loss of time, quality time, together with my kids. And sometimes I get so caught up in what we haven't done that I don't see what we have.
Like harmonica sing alongs with the dog. And the giggles that leave tears rolling down a certain six year old girl's cheeks. And I don't see it if I don't take the time to look.
And yes, I know my kids aren't really using seatbelts like they should. But you should have heard their laughter. That moment captured is like balm to my forgetful soul.