Thursday, October 8, 2015

The early bird fell asleep

So the 5:30 a.m. thing fell apart.

I shouldn't say it so lightly. Picture a car stalling with a deep bronchial deathbed cough.

Yep, that was how my early-bird gig went down. What with all the fire and toxicity, I decided to revert to 'sleeping in' until the children wake me at 7 and staying up as late as possible.

I'm so much happier. Also, I got some help two days a week for THREE HOURS to myself to write my assignments. You have no idea what it's like to write without being interrupted every 20 seconds. (Easy. It is easy.)

I even have time to make the occasional pesto batch. (or four).

Hiding from deadlines smells great!

Several days ago I descended the stairs to the basement and found it a raging wreck. Toys everywhere.

I clean all day long, I thought once again.

All. Day. Long. 

I implored Fan Man and the Pomegranate to help me clean up, but he's 4 and she's 2 and they went about their merry ways. At one point I was fuming as I hurried from one toy pile to another trying to get things in order, and I stopped. I took a breath.

Not a mess. None of it was a mess. Maybe messy, but not a wreck.

It was evidence.

The lights told a story of monsters under the couch. The remote controls were a pretend show on a birch box of blocks.

Evidence of creativity.
Embracing creative work. 
The toddler's legos, the musician's sprawling instruments and music sheets, the sticky cook in a kitchen -- evidence of the process. Magazine pictures and internet-glossy photos are not reality, and it wouldn't be very fun to live in a place like that, all sleek and free from grubby fingerprints and horribly unruffled. I will take my butter smears on the counter and toys on the floor and pencils everywhere and paperwork piles on bench.

I'm busy creating.

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