The rain poured down, this morning. I rescued a bucket of brand-new sidewalk chalk from the driveway after pondering the "natural consequences" theory of discipline and rejecting it in favor of not having wasted the five bucks I paid ... and because I like to use the chalk, too.
My tiny kitchen "sideboard" overflows with fruit from the grocery store and my Farmer's fields - peaches, asian pears, yellow & purple plums: evidence of abundance.
A bouquet that Spice picked for me last night graces the table: a handful of foxtails, and a spike of fiery red gladiola blossoms - her signature careless beauty.
Caterpillars in a glass gallon jar change slowly, unknowingly, into winged creatures.
A boy demands, insists, and learns to say "May I please?" His hands know how to be gentle even as his feet clomp about in big sister's sneakers, his current preferred footwear.
Sugar french-knots her doll's name into fleece, making a pillow, proud of her artistry, her skill.
Paint-with-water pages litter the table, the counter, the fridge, like rabbits overbreeding.
The lights are on; the sky outside still dim.
Chores are done - schoolwork, too - early this time. A new dry-erase board makes it mysteriously more fun.
The task in front of me, making out a list of food to buy, scatters with interruptions from children and from facebook. I am permanently halfway done. My own to-do list cowers by the fridge, intimidated by my lethargy. Bake bread, it exhorts. Make ice cream cake for Spice's birthday. (I write a blog post instead.)
To be disciplined & do what needs to be done .... to know how to rest ... what is the agenda for today?
I try to listen.
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