I was feeling particularly good last Thursday. No, really good, even for someone who often suffers from overconfidence and unbridled optimism. I had finished everything I needed to do, and then some. My kids were having a great day. I even spent a bit of time sewing costumes with George (22 mos) and Gladys (3 yrs). They were helping me and enjoying the process. I displayed a level of patience with them that was unprecedented. I was as cool as a cucumber. George very carefully handed me pins, one at a time.
My joy also stemmed from my blog, of course. I have written a few political posts. Which, although overly mommyish and short on data, were allowing me to participate in an adult forum that I have not allowed myself to enter as of late. I had thrown aside my excuses and participated. I was asking, listening, researching and stating my opinions. I learned about something completely unrelated to children. I pushed my envelope a little, and it felt good.
We feel good when we participate in something larger than ourselves. I crave participation in the world. It fuels my fire and causes me to look for more.
My three small children were in the bath in front of me, but my brain was solving the world’s problems. I will do that. I make a difference. I will be involved.
“Mommy!” Andrew was now raising his voice.
“No need to raise your voice, Honey, I’m right here.”
“George is wearing a diaper in the bathtub.”
They push us to the limits of our sanity. They pull us back to reality.
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