Tonight I decide to sit and just watch Penelope.
She’s digging through her Color Wonder tub mumbling, “Ellow…” and I decide instead of cooking or organizing or cleaning, I would just watch her.
After all, she won’t be 21 months and 27 days ever again.
She starts to dump the entire tub over, but I become aware enough to screech a sound that brings her to a halt. We make eye contact.
She continues digging for a marker until she eventually just dumps everything out. This time I’m not quick enough.
Before I rush to clean it up, I just watch. After all, this is what I learned at the writer’s conference…be on the look-out for the writing material all around me…
She’s on to the broom now…oh, I see…she’s trying to sweep up the pile of markers and sheets of color wonder paper. It lasts a few seconds before she moves the broom to the carpeted living room. My mind wanders for a second. It’s relaxing to just watch instead of try to control (key word: TRY).
My daydream is cut short by a thud, a crash and simultaneous scream coming from the stairwell. I follow a trail of strewn baby wipes to the scene of the crime where I see the broom (that she had apparently tried to FLY down the stairs) and a busted picture frame on the floor where Penelope is lying.
Oh, this season! In the last four minutes that it’s taken me to type the above paragraph, she has gone through the living room taking every last thing out of it’s place with a mischievous smile.
This age is unbelievable.
I have been thinking lately about how conflicting this season of life is.
Everywhere I turn, there is fresh inspiration to write about something. I will mentally document our day, describe the details and tell the stories that we find, but by the time I put the kids to bed and actually have time to PHYSICALLY write down my thoughts, they’re gone.
I wish I didn’t have a desire to write during this season of life. It would make things easier..
I wish I could have a desire to write at a time when I COULD actually write.
Like in 10 years.
Yes, I know the right answers. I know that this season is to be enjoyed. But, it also is to be captured. Writing for me is a way to immortalize the moment…how I wish the moments didn’t slip through the fingers so fast.
It all comes down to choices, I realize. To choose to stay home with my kids right now is to sacrifice time to myself. Right now I’m choosing to put my kid’s needs above my wants. Sometimes I’m bitter about that. Sometimes I get it right and I find joy in that.
Most of the time, I’m caught in the tension between the two.