Sometimes, as I writer, I don’t know what I’m thinking until it comes out on paper or on the screen, and this was one of those times.
I just wrote something for a project that I’m working on (and I hope to share soon!):
Sometimes it’s a good time to make pizza from scratch, and sometimes it’s a good time to make a frozen pizza and sometimes, thank goodness for delivery.
It turns out we’re in the midst of one of those delivery times right now. The end of summer has pushed us toward a level of busyness that I don’t love.
I have several deadlines, we just finished two weeks of camp, and we’re heading 9 hours away to see my sister, and her family, including her new baby.
All good things — but all at once, they have left me feeling scattered and a little out of control. (And very grateful for people who want to cook for me and bring the food right to my house.)
But we aren’t really delivery people. This homeschool, work-from-home life of ours means that we are do-it-yourselfers, as long as the do-it-yourselfering can save us a few dollars. We make laundry detergent, hand soap and household cleaners. We grow a garden. We pick, can and freeze.
It’s hard for me to know right now that my friend is overrun with wild raspberries, and that we are welcome to as many as we can pick, but frankly, we just don’t have time to drive 45 minutes each way and pick them.
Last year, we froze several trays and made a dozen jars of delicious jam.
But I know what would happen if we went now to pick them — we would feel rushed and antsy. No one would enjoy it and the gentle stings of the thorns would drive us all nuts instead of reminding us of the price of free organic fruit goodness.
This just isn’t a season for us to go berry picking.
And I’m all about trying to live each season.
I wasn’t always. There was a time when all days felt the same to me, regardless of sunshine or snow — my desk was always a comfy 77 degrees.
When we moved to the country, I began to feel the physical seasons again, but it wasn’t until I became a mother that I noticed the other seasons — the season of new motherhood; the season of teething or potty training. The season of returning to work. The season of raising two …
And so it’s clear to me that we’re simply in a season of end of summer busyness.
Most likely, it will be followed by a season of frantic homeschool planning. (I mean, it always is.)
But then it will be followed by one of my favorite seasons, the start of a new school year, when everything seems fresh and possible.
(Remind me of that in February, when I have hit my season of slump, won’t you?)
But for now, I am going to do my best to live this season. I am going to order pizza without guilt, knowing that in time, I’ll feel the dough in my hands again.
I’m going to leave the berries for the birds. I can’t imagine they’ll taste very good tainted by negative energy anyway.
And I am going to enjoy this time with my family — the opportunity to meet my sweet new nephew, and hug his big brother.
Because sometimes, a little busyness is OK. Sometimes, it it means extra fun, and a little much-needed adventure.