mornings

I sit and drink my coffee listening to my husband's sweet voice singing "good morning" to our precious little one. The house is cluttered with our things, the most obvious in first observation is the bouncy chair, the jumpy chair, the high chair and stuffed toys. Upon closer observation the more subtle and adult clutter comes into view, a box filled with paints and brushes, fired clay heads from a recent self imposed exercise, baseball caps, socks and shoes, yarn, a pile of paperwork here, some mail and bills over there. Sometimes our little house can feel too cozy.

I wake this morning to gray skies and green grass. I have phone calls to make, bills to pay, reports for work, the house clearly could use some tidying up - the trappings of adult responsibility, but all I can think of is baking cupcakes and shopping for new sheets.

Our mornings are slow and unambitious. Our late and long sleep habits leave us drowsy and floating through the afternoon. It's a sort of heaven, if heaven was cluttered and unswept. I have learned to stop listening to the critical voice inside my head, the one that tells me I should be getting more done. Instead, I work to appreciate what is. I daydream about perfect days and then look at what needs to be done to bring those things into reality. This of course all applies to domestic life. Creatively, I'm much less Zen.

I know that my hubby will struggle to change his schedule with his new job. We will all miss the aimless mornings we're accustomed to. It's funny how much easier it is to appreciate things when it's clear they are only temporary. The reality is, it's all temporary and every day is a gift.