The Art of Doing Nothing

The other day a student I was tutoring asked me what my other job is.  The way he said it, it was taken for granted that I do, in fact, have another job.  I do not, in fact, have another job.  At least not one that pays me a paycheck.

But without hesitating, I answered, "My kids."

And really, I consider them to be my "real job" and this tutoring gig as a side thing.  Tutoring is definitely a hell of a lot easier than my real job (and it's where I write most of my blog posts).

All the same, it still blows my mind sometimes that I have these two beautiful little kids.  Kids tend to think of their parents as pre-existing entities--as if we were born into this world as Mom and Dad.  But Mom and Dad often have to remind themselves on a daily basis that that's who we are now.  We're not 17 without a care in the world.  There are mouths to feed, bills to pay, jobs to attend to.

But I digress.

The point is today I worked my real job and it was blissful.  Today was one of those beautiful days when I truly felt like I was doing it right.

What did we do, you ask?  Not a whole lot, I answer.

We didn't go to the park, though we were invited.  We didn't go to the library, though we have books to return.  I didn't do the dishes or laundry, though both need doing.  We didn't get in the car, go anywhere or buy anything.

But it was a hell of a good day.

We did take two walks around the neighborhood.  I did have a picnic lunch out on the lawn with my big boy while the baby napped.  I did take a video of my big boy spinning circles in the sun.  We did laugh, and play, and eat chocolate that melted on our fingertips...even the baby (though I'm not sure his had a chance to melt before he shoved the whole thing in his mouth).

Now it wasn't an entirely perfect day.  There was room for anger and harsh words when my big boy stood at the bottom of the stairs yelling "MOMMY!" while I tried to get the baby to sleep.  There was the baby who would not let go of me so I could go to the big boy.  But for once, I said, "What good will getting angry do?"  And I handled the 3-year-old's tantrum without having one of my own, and the baby eventually let go and slept alone for an hour.

Today I was the kind of mother I want to be every day.