We spent our morning looking for rolly pollies. We made them a home in a plastic container and searched and searched until we found one to live there.
Last night we mixed brownies without eggs because we were out but she thought it would be fun anyhow. Then we ate brownie goo before bed.
The other day we spent the morning looking for just the right Lego pieces for a Lego animation he was making. Then we watched the movies he created when it was done, after hours of setting up individual scenes.
We spent one afternoon in the yard digging a hole and another collecting rocks we can paint this summer and then and hide in places people will find them and hopefully smile.
One day we painted on canvases. Actually we were supposed to paint on canvases but most of the paint ended up on clothes and the back porch floor.
And then one day I realized my house was a mess and I hadn’t heard some things.
I hadn’t heard someone say, in a mocking tone, “cleanliness is next to Godliness” while sneering at my mess. I didn’t hear the voice inside my head telling me I would be a better mom if my kids were involved in five different activities or if we spent our vacations in Hawaii or at Disney.
I couldn’t hear the words “Germs! Germs! Wash those hands or they’ll get germs!”
And I somehow missed all those articles with titles like “Five Things You Should Never Let Your Children Do” or “Three Reasons No One Likes You” or “Ten Reasons You Never Reached Your Dreams” or “Ten Organic Foods You Should Be Feeding Your Children.”
I was simply too busy doing important things with my kids to worry about what other people thought I should do.
I tend to think those days are the best days of all and that more mothers should have more of them, more often.
I slipped through the holes in that big thing with the white poles a lot today.
One of them likes to squeal and scream when I nip at it’s legs. It’s hilarious. The other one shouts “No! No, Zooma! No!” Also hilarious.
This is where we are right now – us women who fight with our weight – and we need to read that Bible as much as the 21-year old skinny girl does. That 21-year old blond may look like she has it all together but she’s in need of a savior as much as the fat mom who cries in the closet with a pint of Haagen-daz when she looks at photos of herself. The only difference is the fat mom may find a bit more judgement because of how she looks and how she has “let herself go.”
While the youth of today may dismiss what they see as the old fashioned and out of touch ideas of the older generation, the older generation are also a driving force of the Kingdom.