Fridays tend to be busy days. I clean the house, make a fabulous dinner, run a few loads through the washer, and tie up any loose ends with school. I like having the house all polished and spiffy for the weekend. He comes in from a long work week to a tidy home, a beautiful meal, and music in the background. It’s a wonderful way to close one week and begin the next.
But this one was of those days where the laundry was piled high and the house looked like three small tornados had whizzed through it. I should have been whipping up dinner or reorganizing the art cabinet without my helpers, or at the very minimum, scouring Amazon to find a good deal on the new math book we would need in just a few weeks.
But instead I sat on the sofa in the middle of the mess and just watched the snow. I enjoyed the quite moment and smiled at myself. It was December 22, and we had made it. Besides the planned week off over Thanksgiving and two tricky days after my little one had fallen down the stairs and broken a bone, we had been steadily schooling away since mid-August. Week after week I had gotten up and gotten at it with the six year old, his brain firing even quicker than mine. Every day his reading gets a little sharper; more fluent. Every week he makes new connections and things become more automatic. He thrives with the history we’ve dived into and looks forward to each new chapter in our zoology book.
I never want to take credit for his growth. He is the one responsible for the learning. He tells me when its time to move on and when we need to ease the pace. He’s the one who cements the concepts fully into his mind. But I sat there feeling really proud of myself. Not because he is smart or because we made it till Christmas. I’m proud because we are doing it. We are thriving, even with two little ones in tow.
December 22 was the rare day that my home looked like a total disaster. And while I may complain about the laundry, it does usually get done, folded, and put away. Dinner is generally healthy, always on time, and often delicious. I have even learned to grocery shop at 6:30am to avoid taking all three children with me to the store. My days are long; they are busy and filled with the general work behind well-run home.
But more important than the food and the clean clothes and the organized toys is the love. Its the attention to the character training and the squeezing in of teachable moments. Its the beautiful little relationships that get a little stronger, a little deeper, and a little more meaningful each day.
I sat back and looked at it all. And I smiled because I saw the woman who makes it all happen. The one they seek out and call upon when things go wrong. The one who makes their little world go around. Someday that won’t be my primary job. Their worlds will expand, and they will take over the general running of their own lives. But how they approach it will be a lesson they have learned by observation; by years of watching the one who showed them how.
I don’t have it all together all the time. But I do have it mostly together most of the time. And that’s a big deal. That’s a big accomplishment. That’s something that deserves a smile and an approving nod. That’s something that has earned this Christmas break.