I’ve been feeling overwhelmed lately. Our warm summer has resulted in a prolific garden, and while I’m grateful for the food, I just can’t keep up with it. Canning takes a lot of time. A. Lot. Time that I just don’t seem to have. Harvesting and watering can easily consume half of my morning, which means less time for cleaning, cooking, and laundry. Eddie learned to walk a few days ago and I had to completely reorganize the kitchen cabinets so that there wasn’t anything within her reach that could possibly maim or kill her. Sam is potty training and it’s proven to be quite the commitment for both of us. He spends a lot of time sitting in the bathroom and I spend a lot of time sitting in the bathroom with him. Bright side: we are reading more books than usual and that can’t ever be a bad thing. Also, my bathroom is spotless because almost every time Sam misses, (which is quite often) I clean the bathroom top to bottom.
On Thursday, Eddie took a nap and I prepared for my usual three hour scramble where I rush to get as much done as possible during her nap, all the while trying to keep Sam preoccupied and out of my way. Just as I was getting ready to lift myself off the couch, Sam looked at me and said “Hey, Mom, why don’t you sit here with me and knit? We can cuddle.”
Cuddle? My baby actually wants to cuddle with me?!
That did it. I threw my to do list out the window and I spent the entire afternoon sitting on the couch knitting and playing legos. I didn’t clean. I didn’t cook. I didn’t water or weed.
Man, did I need that. I can’t remember the last time I ignored my daily duties and just spent time with my kid(s). It started raining that afternoon, so watering would have been a waste of time anyway. It felt like it was meant to be. I think I need to make a point to do that more often. Let go. Relax. Build a lego tower with my son.
Later, as I was telling Gabe about my much needed day of laziness, he said: “At the end of the day, Sam had a moment with his mom that will inevitably become a good memory that he will hold onto for the rest of his life. Nobody is going to remember the cucumber that was never picked.”
He’s right, of course. But it’s not easy to sit and read a story for the millionth time or put a puzzle together or do anything really when there’s so much to do around the homestead.
Balance. This should be my new motto. Perhaps I should create a bumper sticker? Memories last forever. Cucumbers don’t.
