There's a ninety percent chance it will rain today. I watched the forecast on the news this morning as I was packing three lunches for school. In my Monday morning mood I thought to myself that there was a better chance of rain today than all three of my children remembering their lunches. We're a forgetful bunch. Last Thursday one remembered their lunch, one forgot their lunch and one somehow got off with two drinks but missing her snack. This morning one "lost" her lunch. How do you misplace your lunch?
I scampered upstairs to check the bathroom (gross thought). Not there. I was checking the next possible spot grumbling about
wishing we could have one morning
where we ALL have our stuff when she yelled, "I found it. It fell behind the shoe basket."
It's not just mornings that I'm reminded of our inability to "get it right".
I am a diligent overseer of grades. I frequently go online to check how the kids are doing. I've also signed up to receive a notification any time the kids make anything below an eighty. At least one kid scores below an eighty on something every week. Every Friday like clockwork I get an email from the address "firstname.lastname@example.org". But I tell you, I always have a reply.
Could we just have one Friday without one of these emails?
Jason suggested this past weekend I change the notification setting to a lower grade or that I discontinue the notification. ....The nerve of that guy.... Why would I want make our Friday afternoons more pleasant when I can have a guaranteed reason to shake my head at this "less than eighty nonsense"? I think I may listen to him.
Sometimes I'm forgetful.
I'm forgetful of my own blunders. I'm forgetful of my own forgetfulness. I've only recently come to the place of knowing I have to put my keys in the same basket on the counter or else they will be lost. I'm constantly looking for the one spatula I have. I lose paperwork. Worst, I lose my cool.
I'm also forgetful of how quickly time passes. The duties and demands of motherhood are unending. As moms we spend so much time working to make things right, that we often neglect to realize how right things are. In the Burden house, the kids are all still home. The number of those days is getting fewer.
In five months we'll be moving our oldest into his college dorm. Jason and I attended a high school meeting two weeks ago for Hallie. I wasn't prepared to see "Class of 2019" on the projector screen. The kid was a preteen thirteen months ago. The baby is months away from double digits.
In ten years I won't have lunches to pack anymore. I more than likely won't have foreheads to kiss every morning.
I wonder if I'll be wishing we could have "just one morning". Maybe I'll be asking for another Friday with the kids all home.
It was just a few years ago that I grumbled about diaper changing. Now I miss grabbing those bare feet, squeezing pink baby toes while they were close to me.
They're a forgetful bunch, those kids. We're a forgetful bunch, us moms. Neither us or the kids get it right all the time. But today lets know where our heart should be. Mine is in a place called home; a sometimes messy spot where things are often missing
......but never should be love and gratitude for a gift as precious as our family.
Today put your heart on pause; maybe it will tick a little more slowly. Forgotten lunches and crummy quiz grades for me, or maybe dirty diapers and toddler tantrums for you, mean that our children are still children. Instead of asking for one day where we get it right, surely we know that today is right. God has given us today with them. Today is good.
We've been notified.