Winding Down

I was looking at my calendar yesterday and realized there are only three weeks left of non-school filled summer for us.

This is breaking my heart.

I am not ready for summer to be over.  I know, I should focus on the three weeks we have left, but when you factor in the week we will be spending at the Butler Farm Show,  the preschool orientation, the Kindergarden orientation, and the last few appointments we have of the summer, there aren't many days left!  Even though there have been days where my kids are picking and fighting, screeching and screaming, whining and begging, I am not ready to pack them back up and send them on the bus/drive to preschool.

I was cleaning out some old folders yesterday and came across this "letter" from a newsletter of a MOPS group I used to attend.  It was kind of my unofficial motto for summer without me even knowing it.  I gave up on any heavy duty chores for the summer, which is why my house now looks like I am prepping for an episode of hoarders .  The cobwebs are killing me!  I literally have them everywhere.  In fact, I left my Kitchen Aid mixer on my counter last night and this morning there was a cobweb from the mixer to the cabinet!

I was talking to a friend yesterday who told me she had spent an unreasonable amount of time at a local shoe store trying to get her four children fit into sneakers for the coming school year.  As she told the story, I vowed that I will not take my kids back to school shopping.  They don't need anything and I am going to try to avoid the realization that school is going to start as long as possible.  As I finish out these fleeting summer days, I am going to keep this letter on my refrigerator to remind me that these days are going by way too fast and my job is to create memories and have fun with my kids.

Just for this day.

Just for this morning, I am going to smile whenever I see your face and laugh when I feel like crying.

Just for this morning, I will let you wake up softly, all rumpled in your flannel and I will hold you until you are ready for the day.

Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say how perfect it is.

Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you outside to play.

Just for this morning, I am going to eat a huge breakfast , with bacon eggs, toast and waffles, and you don't have to eat any.

Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that puzzle together.

Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the
computer off, and sit with you in the garden blowing bubbles.

Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.

Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.

Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to 'fix' things.

Just for this afternoon, I will let you put all kinds of barettes in my
hair, and put lipstick on my face, and I will tell you how pretty you have made me look.

Just for this afternoon I will take you to McDonalds and buy us both a Happy meal so you can have both toys.

Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born, and how much we love you.

Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the bathtub and not get angry when you throw water over your sister's head.

Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the
porch swing and count all the stars.

Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours and miss my favorite show on t.v.

Just for this evening, When I run my fingers through your hair as you pray, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given.  I will think about the mothers who are searching for their missing children, the mothers who are visiting their their children's graves instead of their bedrooms, and mothers who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer, and when I kiss you goodnight I will hold you a little tighter, a little longer.  It is then that I will thank God for you, for all that I have and not ask for anything, except . . . just one more day.

When everyone is in school, I will have time to tediously clean my house, clean out the kitchen cabinets and wipe down all the contents, and do all the mundane cleaning I feel that I should do now.  And someday, no one will be here except me and Erik, and I will be like our neighbor and invite the neighbor kids down to play because even though I haven't vacuumed in a month, there are no foot prints in the carpet.

So, today, when I thought I was going to "crack down" in an attempt to get our lives back on track, I looked at this letter again and decided the kids didn't have to match their clothes, comb their hair, or clean up the playroom like I had originally intended.  I will do the chores that must be done (if I don't fold and put away clothes today, no one is going to have any underwear) but after that, we will see where the day takes us.  Because all too soon, I am going to be telling them, "In just one more day we go back to school."