Friday, January 27, 2012

Meditation for a Day at Home with the Kids

No school today.

Bill has been gone since Sunday night.  It is 4:00 p.m. Friday.  His flight gets in at 5:00 p.m.  The darkest hour is just before dawn.

Actually, this whole week we did really good without him.  We were in a good groove.  I got Calvin to band in the morning and Mary to family math night.  Mary Lynn got them to gymnastics and bell choir while I taught. We had good piano practices. I enjoyed teaching and the piano kids worked hard.  House is pretty clean.  I have lots to do but I'm checking things off the list in good order. Four recitals this weekend but everyone is in good shape. Programs are printed and S.A.M. recordings are all set.

I woke up early today as usual and practiced with Calvin. We had a great practice. Fur Elise is sounding very beautiful. He really worked hard and listened to my ideas and I listened to his.  

I was thinking about being in the moment and enjoying a day at home with my kids. They had little cinnamon rolls for breakfast.  Mary's friend came over for awhile and there was a doll luncheon. We made chocolate chip cookies. I was the perfect mother. Patient. So loving and why not, with my perfect little children?  A light snow was falling. This is how life should always be. See, I can be mindful.

Then the crayon machine came out.
"Mama, it's leaking. . . "  The melted wax is leaking. And crayon scrapings were all on a paper towel that somehow missed the garbage can and went into everything else under the sink.   But, oh the joy of creating your own beautiful brown crayons. That is what really happens when you mix all those great colors together.  Recycle crayons?  Like we need to do that?  We have bins and bins of crayons.

That set me back. The crayon machine. Why is there no school today?  Why?  What are they doing over there that they can't have the kids there?  Don't we pay enough taxes to have more days of school?  I yelled about the wax. Tears were shed.

Then someone, I won't mention who but it was my more OCD child. . . decided to organize the bins of crayons.  Mama, there are 15 Orchids!  There are 10 Target Reds! Only 7 Tickle Me Pinks. . . Wow.  They are all laid out all over the piano room floor by color.  Just like when he, I mean the un-named child, was 18 month olds. . .when we knew he was not a completely normal toddler.  

Buddha where are you now?
This is why we need Jesus.  And a husband.  Not necessarily in that order.
I can't do it on my own.

I tried some deep breaths.  Oommm.  But then the music started.  From the piano room: (the Baldwin with the rich bass. . . ) Star Wars- dum dum dum-Star Wars---dum dum dum Star Wars-dum dum dum dum. . . . .it modulates into Vivaldi's Spring at quarter note equals 180--then comes to a climax with a boogie-woogie chorus.  I'm not kidding. You can't make this stuff up. And it's very loud.

The frenetic energy has reached a peak in a rousing chorus of  "Fearless" complete with song and dance by the other child.

There is no meditation for this.  Resistance is futile.  I light a fire in the fireplace and stare at the minutes ticking by on the clock.  It's too soon to get in the car to pick Bill up at the airport.  We would only drive around in circles for 45 minutes.

I'm gonna head down and join the song and dance--now being hammered out on the marimba in the basement. . .  Ode to Joy morphs back into Fearless. . . break for another round of wrestling. . .then. . . you guessed it: snare drum practice.

I don't know how it gets better than this
You take my hand and drag me headfirst fearless. . . 

I guess this is the meditation for a day at home with the kids.  Enjoy it. I don't know how it gets better than this. I know that I will look back on today--just like early childhood--and smile.

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