I have been feeling a little frantic lately. I’m not sure if this is a component of my personality, a bad behavioral habit I’ve recently gotten into, a product of our culture, or if it’s somehow part of the gig of staying home full-time with children. Like most things, it’s probably a combination of those things.
Frantic, for me, is when I become exceptionally scattered. It’s when I will drop one thing, mid-task, in order to do something else. I will usually drop that, too. It’s when I can’t sleep for the mental gymnastics of worry and doubt and when, at the end of the day, my To Do List has hardly anything crossed off all the way– only lots of things crossed off half-the-way. Tangible signs I’m becoming a little too frantic:
1. I found a cup of coffee in the microwave that I’d left there, oh, two days ago. It was no longer warm.
2. I made orange juice last night. I asked Scott to stir it before pouring some for Miles. He asked, “Is there a reason there is a sponge in the orange juice?” This may be one of the stupider questions Scott has asked me in his life, but it’s also pretty ridiculous that I had stopped cleaning out the pitcher mid-swipe in order to do something else, then forgotten to FINISH cleaning the pitcher and remove the disgusting sponge before adding the frozen orange juice and water.
3. My kitchen pantry has remained half-primed for probably a month now. (In my defense, no one should redo their kitchen while, at the same time, possessing babies. I suppose that’s not really in my defense, though, because not only did I choose to redo the kitchen, I also stupidly said “No, thank you” when the cabinet guy gave me the price for him to paint the cabinets with his Amazing Spray Gun of Fastness.)
4. My suitcase is still only halfway unpacked from our trip last week. But this is pretty normal for me.
These are only a few examples. I should also admit that I left the computer after writing “These are only” in the previous sentence to go help Genevieve nap, to get half-ready for the day (literally: I’m wearing my “awake” shirt and my “night-night” pants), and to file some bills. WHAT IS MY PROBLEM?!?
It’s the season of Advent again. Last night, when we were lighting the candle in our Advent wreath, I remembered that this week’s candle symbolizes peace. Now, this has a lot to do with God’s large-scale plan for humanity, but I think it can also apply to the small scale. And I know I should be paying more attention to peacefulness in a season of such restlessness—both in my heart and in our culture. These weeks before Christmas can become so frantic, so fast-paced, so crazed.
I thought I’d share a brief little article I read at an online magazine my sister just introduced me to called Darling Magazine. It’s about putting your dishes away, which is just the sort of baby step I need. Especially since I’m finding my dishes in the microwave so often.
Peace to you this week. May your sponges never be found in your orange juice.