All the Small Things

Yesterday, I was chomping at the bit to have some piece and quiet. I wanted to go out and do something with the hubby. I wanted…well I honestly didn’t know what I wanted. But what I was getting, wasn’t it.

So, in a fit of desperation, I hauled out the slip ‘n slide, hooked up the hose, and then shoved my kids into swimsuits and out the door.

I brought a book and a chair and sat outside to make sure they weren’t hurt, but I was still determined I was getting something for myself.

It didn’t take me long to be lured in by their incessant laughing and splashing. Before long I was not only smiling at them, but egging them on.

The smiles on their faces were addictive and I couldn’t get enough of it. Before I knew it, I was not only pushing them to keep going, I was an active participant.

They started egging me on to do stupider and stupider things and I felt myself regressing. I wasn’t a 29-year-old mother of two. I was now 12 and playing with my friends.

Then reality hit when I did something really stupid and tore something in my knees, but in those 20 or so minutes, I was having fun. A lot of fun.

And I realized that I wasn’t craving alone time away from them. I was craving time WITH them.

And it helped. Not just my mood, but with my writing. My kids are an endless fount of inspiration. From the things they do, to the things they say or don’t say.

So if you have kids, relax and spend time with them. They may just be what the doctor ordered.