I feel out of rhythm with our days, like I’m walking on a rocky path in the dark. Trying to catch my stride, I keep tripping and stumbling. It’s not all darkness around– there are bright patches of light, but my eyes can’t adjust fast enough to enjoy them.
The kids are out-of-sorts as well. It’s always hard to come back to "schooling" after a break, and we’ve had lots of tears and tantrums over work which, even a month ago, would have been done without a peep in fifteen minutes.
Our preferred library is closed for renovation, so I’m trying to use a different one, and the books are all overdue because I keep trying to go there when it’s closed.
Sam is trying to help. He organized my school supplies closet, putting out of the way the pencils/scissors/tape/glue that was being dumped on a daily basis by an enthusiastic two year-old. Also, we took back the children’s "cubbies" in the school room which had become a catch-all for every piece of paper that didn’t have a home… until it all fell on the floor in a heap that was too overwhelming for a six year-old to pick up. Instead, he gave them each a plastic bin in the school supplies closet, so I can put whatever they’ve left out (think pine-cone owls, calculator, chess set, pokemon cards, sparkly purses, fancy nancy card games…) there and close the door on it. He’s a genius, my man.
Here are a few bright spots in our house, and I’m trying to let their brightness sink into me as well–
the painting is by my uncle, and the quilt was a Christmas gift from my mother. Too beautiful to take down.
the little mason chair was my grandmother’s, and then my brother’s, and now SweetP’s. It’s a perfect reading spot.
And I’m trying to take some baby steps, on which I’m less likely to stumble. Scrubbing the stove. Done. The boys’ laundry. Done. Bread. Done. Maybe the bigger steps will come a little more easily tomorrow.