It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t mean to do it. Really, if you don’t know you are lying can it really be called a lie? I think maybe it was more like ignorance. I just didn’t know. I was oblivious. I mean, if boiling an egg without water didn’t clue me in, and sending my daughter to school on p.j. day without p.j.’s left me unaware, and spilling a perfectly good pie all over the floor didn’t set off a red flag, and nearly having a breakdown kept me in my naivete. . . what would it take to see the truth?
I’m sure some of you have known it the entire time. ( eh-hem. . . Chad? Trophy Life? Ashley?) But you’ve been kind and gentle enough to let me see it on my own. Finally, after the events of the last few weeks I can see the truth. I believe it. I know it.
This pregnancy brain stuff? It’s not true.
Here is how I know. . .
In the last two weeks I have: a.) sat and waited far too long for a pot to boil. . . without turning on the burner. b.) prepared a snack for Charlie’s class in the microwave. . . without putting the dish in the microwave. c.) pulled the vanilla extract out of the cupboard while making bread, added correct amount to batter, replaced cap and put vanilla back in cupboard. . . then immediately took vanilla back out of cupboard and repeated the process. d.) attended a conference and forgot my shoes. e.) made a pot of coffee first thing in the morning and forgot about it until before bed that night.
Turns out that it’s not pregnancy brain at all. Turns out it’s just, well, Summer.
Ah. It felt good to get that out. It’s true what they say. . . confession is good for the soul.
You see, even with my best efforts, I am
rarely never batting a thousand. On most days, I’m happy not to drop the bat. But you know what’s really cool? I’m becoming okay with that.
Sure, a birds eye view of our house might reveal couches pushed aside and stuffed animals littering our floor.
|See? I told you. . . laundry basket is always in near vicinity|
And sometimes baby cries. . . or screams. . .
And sometimes Mommy pierces baby fingers with nail clippers that produces enough blood to send big sister running to hide in fear. . .
Yep, our household is far from perfect. But you want to know something? You want to know what we do have down? We’ve got the loving-each-other-enjoying-each-other-soaking-up-life’s-little-moments-thing down. We really do.
I guess as the days and the years move forward I am embracing, more and more, the reality that the details of life really don’t have to be perfect. That the house can be messy and dinner can be made up of leftovers for more days than not. And sometimes the bread will just have an extra shot of vanilla.
Who doesn’t love an extra shot of vanilla?
Truth is, I feel a shift happening in our house. I suspect it might be that spring is in the air. The suns rays beat against our house for just a little longer and it seems that everything just glows. . .
Have you looked around? Have you noticed that the shadows are longer? It’s almost impossible to resist the call to the outdoors.
Charlie is insistent. . . I have to practice soccer so I can get more goals at recess. . .
The fresh air. . . it makes me feel just a little more chill. Stepping outside and breathing deep the freshness of the pre-spring air is almost like taking a dose of medicine called “Perspective”. Somehow, the crisp air makes my slip-ups and absent-mindedness seem less important and more what it really is. . . funny.
I will be the first to admit that I lose perspective of this at times. I get caught up in the idea of it all has to look right and it all has to be neat and tidy. Or I at least have to have an excuse for why it doesn’t look that way. . . pregnancy brain.
But suddenly a quiet moment comes along and in an instant everything seems clear. . .
Perfection is not important. . . presence is.