The redeeming half hour

I come here to catalog the craziness but often just privately savor the blissful days. I'd like to promise that I'll focus more on those times, but I can't even promise to clean a bathroom these days. And really, words don't often do justice to the times when things flow somewhat smoothly and when moments with the kids are filled with joy and meaning (and I just gagged a little when I wrote that. I am so not a sentimental person.) 

Today seemed like it was going to be one of those crazy days. I often just led the kids lead the activities of the day, partly because I'm too lazy to plan anything. But I'd like to think it's because I'm smart enough to know better by now. Kids tend to poop all over your plans, sometimes literally.

After breakfast, Danny and Fiona wanted to do art. Owen wanted to continue throwing whatever he could get his hands on. I pulled out some Cars posters and a small set of poster paints from my secret stash of busywork, taped newspaper to the dining room table and let them go at it. They did for at least a half hour. Owen howled his discontent at being left out of this activity, so I set him up to the table with Aquadoodle. All he wanted to do was suck the water from the water pen and the wet paint brush. I gave him crayons; he tried to eat those, too. Then he threw them. Then  he wanted to take them out and put them back into the container. Then he did some more gravity experiments.

So we took a little trip to Michael's for more art supplies because mommy needed to strap them down somewhere and regroup while she drank a Diet Coke and ate her Luna Bar.
When Owen finally went down for his nap, we got to do this:

"We're artisting, mom."

Fiona decorates the driveway.

"I need more red, mom."

He ended up painting cars, rocks and acorns.

Truth be told, the blissful "artisting" session lasted only about a half hour. That doesn't seem like a long time for an adult, especially when that time frame was once a too-short meal break at a job. But to a kid, it's a long time.

In fact, Danny kept telling me as he happily painted, "This is too slow. It's not too fast." And while this sounds like a cry of boredom, in his little mind, it means "This is taking a long time, but I'm having fun." I know this because he spent at least another 10 minutes intently painting before we went up for quiet time.

I read them one book which was frequently interrupted by the 2 year old who insisted on sitting in Danny's chair and doing other things just to annoy her brother. It's her job to be contrary these days. I took lots of deep breaths and remembered to speak quietly in short sentences.

We all napped. With the windows open. It was delicious. These are the days when I feel a little guilty that I get to be home with the kids while my husband goes to work to deal with grown up children.