There are moments in my day when I feel too tired and lazy to have another conversation about Star Wars, Bionicles, Power Miners, or Webkinz. These aren’t short conversations yet I try to resist the urge to say Not Now. Not always, but most of the time.
There are moments when I find myself walking a greuling slow pace of a single day within the fast lane of a month, a year.
Walking down the stairs with a tenacious toddler just as I hear the oven timer, for example. “No, no!” She wants to go down by herself. “No, no!” And so I walk beside her, knowing the rolls are burning.
Some days I find myself complaining at every turn. I could be making what I perceive to be good choices as a mom but my heart is not sincere at all. I’m cranky about cleaning up spills from a non-spill sippy cup, for starters. The world is against me.
I easily get frustrated that one job is never complete before two are started. I confess that I take this out on my husband way too easily. Recently he commented about the danger of piling stuff on the stairs. He’s absolutely right given my track record. That man is smart and is cautious about having me back in a cast for any given amount of time. Ever.
But his comment threw me into a tizzy. Another Anna came out. Or maybe the real Anna, I’m not sure. Piles exist everywhere in this house. They’re getting higher and higher. I go about my day forgetting what I have to do and hardly accomplishing anything at all. It gets the best of me, I admit.
That’s when I realize I need to get out of the house. Away from the piles. For just a bit, anyway. I need to find the joy in another surrounding.
And then I’ll remember how good it is to play. It’s therapeutic.
Oh, and while playing? Have a conversation or two.
And not care about spills.
And not go into a tizzy.
It’s so good.