Wednesday, June 17, 2015


A couple days ago, I felt like a chicken with my head cut off.

Well, to be honest, that's how I feel most days.

But the other day was an especially chicken-with-head-cut-off kind of day.

We have been NONSTOP.  Here I was, thinking we'd have lazy and boring and unplanned summer days, and then BAM, so many things going on.

The past couple weeks have been a whirlwind of traveling, having guests in town, playdates, hosting baby showers, 10k training, doctor appointments, E's dedication, trips to the vet, Vacation Bible School, events around the community, swimming lessons, etc.

All good stuff, for sure.  But a lot of good stuff, all at once.  And all this good stuff has left me feeling a little stressed, overwhelmed, like I can't find my bearings.

It's been a wonderfully chaotic few weeks, so I decided we were due for a day with NO plans.  Nothing on the calendar.  Nothing on the schedule.  No commitments.  A day where CK could be a little lazy, watch a movie or two, and stay in her pajamas so I could finally, finally catch up on life and attempt to tackle a long list of to-do's that has been calling my name.

The first hour and a half of this no-plans day was great.  CK was all about her Doc McStuffins cartoon and I was a woman on a mission:  start laundry, CHECK; puree some baby food, CHECK; change all the bed linens, CHECK; do some Rodan + Fields work, CHECK; catch up on emails, CHECK; write thank-you notes, CHECK; meal plan for the week, CHECK.

And then CK decided she was done with her cartoons/movies/pajama day.

"Mommy, can you play Barbies with me?  Mommy, will you paint my fingernails?  Mommy, can we play with the slip 'n slide?  Mommy, can we go ride my bike?  Mommy, can we make those bird feeders like you said we would?  Mommy, can I have a snack?  Mommy, I spilled my water.  Mommy, where's my Elsa doll?  Mommy, can you get out my coloring stuff?  Mommy, will you do play dough with me?  Mommy, can we sing our VBS songs?  Mommy, can we go swing on the playground?"

In just a minute.  In just a minute.  In just a minute.  In just a minute.  In just a minute.  In just a minute.  In just a minute.


I swear, midway through the day I felt like I had said, "In just a minute, Cameron Kate" about fifty-seven times.  I had high hopes of her being thrilled to have an extra-cartoons-kind-of-day so that I could have an extra-productive-kind-of-day.  Instead, my mini-me pretty much followed me around the house, practically wrapped around my legs, begging me to entertain her.

By the time she went down for her nap  (HALLELUJAH!  NAP TIME!!), I started feeling guilty about all of my in just a minute's.  Like I was so focused on tackling my to-do's when I should've been more focused on my girl.

But wait - no, no I will not feel guilty.

It's okay to be an IN JUST A MINUTE mom sometimes.  Because sometimes we have to meet our own needs, or the needs of the rest of the family, or maybe we just don't feel like playing Barbies for the 689th time so we lie and say IN JUST A MINUTE when really we have no intentions of pretending like we're a princess in a castle, again.

If you're anything like me, there are some days I put my kids to bed and think about how we practiced writing the alphabet in shaving cream and did a puppet show and had an impromptu dance party and made homemade yogurt popsicles and I say, "Wow.  I rocked this whole mama-thing today."  But there are also some days when I put my kids to bed and think about how I spent most of the day saying, "In just a minute!"

And I think that's okay.  I'm working really hard on not letting myself feel guilty about those in-just-a-minute days, because some days I really do need just a minute or fifty.

And then yesterday... after CK's nap and after I felt like I had probably met my quota of asking her to give me a minute, I plopped myself down on her bedroom floor and finally, finally played with her and her Peppa Pig dollhouse.  We laughed, we snorted, we did our best Peppa Pig impersonations.  It was the highlight of my day.  I looked at the piles of unfolded laundry and the dinner that needed to be cooked and thought, 

"In just a minute..."

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