Ever have one of those weeks where there just seems to be more life than time?
This week -- the third week in August -- is always my most challenging week of the summer. It's County Fair week here, and if you've ever had kids in 4-H, you know what that means. If you haven't, it means this: pressuring/assisting your kids to finish up their Fair projects, transporting said projects to Fair, listening to a lot of whining while your kids wait for Fair judging and spending approximately 50 buckson Fair food and midway rides.
The third week in August -- AKA, The Most Stressful Week of My Summer -- is also the week before The Most Relaxing Week of My Summer. Which means that that I must somehow find a way to cram two weeks of work into one. I do not always do this successfully.
Week 3 of August is also birthday week: two of my brothers, my Dad and my second son have birthdays this week. So add in party planning and cake baking. (Too bad none of my boys are in the cake decorating project in 4-H!)
In other words, my head is spinning too fast to impart any boy-raising wisdom today. Somehow, though, I think you know exactly how I feel. Somehow, I know that if you're raising boys, you've had days and weeks just like mine, days that fly by in such a flurry that you don't even know which end is up, much less what you're doing.
Those are the days it's easy to lose track, easy to feel overwhelmed by all the to-do-ness that comes with boys. Who has time to worry about the big picture when there are dirty socks on the floor and exactly one empty milk jug in the fridge?
Those are the days, though, when we need to remember that it's all about the big picture. I haven't been doing a very good job of that lately. Lately, my boys have been the obstacle, not the purpose.
Days like this, I need to remember to refocus. I need to remember to take a deep breath to quiet all the voices in my head. ('Cause yes, I am that crazy.) I need to reach for a pencil, start jotting down my to-do's and tackle them, one at a time. Then I need to tear up my to-do list and look at what's right in front of me: four boys, eager for my love. It's hard to see it sometimes, admist all the bickering and fighting, but it's there.
So tonight, I laid with my three-year-old and watched him drift off to sleep. I stroked his still-smooth skin and relished the feel of his little boy body, snuggling closer to mine. I enjoyed the moment -- then got back up to tackle the to-do's.