Sometimes while I'm driving I pretend the tree-line up ahead is mountains, and I let my mind go there. I can blur my vision just so, and it becomes
And my insides warm, and I imagine.
I'm really good at pretending.
Today in the nursery at church I played on the floor and ate plastic food and put together the same puzzle again and again and again
and I had joy about it, I en-joyed it.
I caught Ivy side-eyeing me and I think she was trying to figure out who this was. Mommy? Because you're not really like that at home.
I mean, I try. I'm like that sometimes but it's not enough. Especially when no one is watching. But, um, my kids are so watching. Is this just another case of mom-guilt? Whatever. I'm calling myself out on it.
Why don't I just let that be how I always am? Then I won't have to fake it. Then it would really be me.
The kids pick a muffin from the coffee table at church, after every service. They get crumbs in their coat sleeves and car seats and everywhere in between. I don't mind, and that's the real me.
Ivy dropped a little toy turtle in Gray's ukulele. We shook it out. No big whoop. That's me.
I played Battleship with the boys with no interruptions, no distractions, and it was good. (That's usually not me.)
I've been praying that the things that make me selfish or lazy-mom will grow dim in my heart, be less of a desire, and that the things that are more lifeportant will be what I'll be more drawn to.
A new prayer is that I am fun Sunday School mom even when "no one" is looking.
Gosh that really sounds so incredibly cheesy. (Not me.) But I have to stop being unwilling to spill out of my comfort zone. Maybe I'll pretend it looks like mountains over there. And drive right into it.