Beautiful Monday

The family in this little yellow house did not meet this particular Monday morning spectacularly well.

It started out okay: Daddy got out for his run, children slept until the blissful hour of 7am (thank you, Daylight Savings, for your lingering benefits), Mama got out for her pathetic Recently Established attempt at jogging, morning chores were being accomplished, and breakfast was served only 15 minutes later than our target time.

But then...

Oh! then the exhaustion of a fun but long Sunday began to kick in. Children were quick to complain and even quicker to cry. The baby was Generally Disgruntled after being denied any decent opportunities for napping all day yesterday. Family devotions was amusing at best and pointless at worst. Mama watched with sad eyes as Daddy prepared to leave, knowing that somehow she would need to alone guide these five [rather raw] children throughout the remainder of the day, which was looking longer and longer by the minute.

School around the dining room table turned into a regular circus act. Baby crying. Toddler testing boundaries with a tenacity that exceeds what's normal even for her. Preschooler crying about boredom (which is not something that is gladly tolerated in this house). Kindergartener being silly and generally unruly. First grader struggling with emotions and the gloom that easily engulfs a melancholy temperament.

I don't like to quit. I am a task-oriented person who likes to get the agenda taken care of. This often lends itself well to homeschooling and the managing of a home and young children-- and sometimes it really, really doesn't. I knew I could push and prod and correct and hound and [maybe] get the correct chapters read and the new consonant combinations practiced and the sums added and the division mastered.

But I knew it would be awful.

Yet, ohmyword, it can be like pulling teeth for me to close those books. I find myself calculating how we can make it up and not add a school day to the end of the year. I don't readily adjust to the idea of simply being with my children when my goal was doing something with them.

And yet, what else could I do?

We left the books. I gathered my children around me, soothing a distraught infant and ministering peace to the restless toddler. From my new spot in the rocking chair, I encouraged my older children to begin assembling their train track while I carefully supervised attitudes and more easily gave the needed reminders to speak kindly, to give generously, and to forgive quickly.

Once Baby was asleep, a mid-morning snack was doled out. Not only are mid-morning snacks an unusual thing in this house, cookies and milk were even more surprising.

"Why, Mom?" asked my biggest child, wondering what the occasion could be to prompt it all.

"Because," I answered. "Just because. It's Monday. It's gray outside. Our souls are a little tender today. And I want you to know that I love you even on Mondays."

After each crumb was savored and cups had been spilled and refilled and fingers were licked clean and the children returned to their play, I glanced around at the happy mess of wooden train tracks and sprawled bodies. I saw the sparkly eyes of children as they made each other laugh. I listened to the sound of chatter instead of grumbling, and I whispered a thanks to the One who ohso kindly moved me away from my agenda so that I might take on His.

We are continuing on with our day and, of course, there have been bumps and setbacks and adjustments-- and I've no doubt there will be more. But we're taking them on together and I'm keeping my goals simple: make my Sensitive Boy laugh, embrace my Biggest Girl's silliness, be gentle with my Tender Son, look often into the eyes of my Precocious Pip, hold close my Sweet One, trust that He will make up my lack.

At 8:52am, I wondered how we would get through this day.

Now, I wonder how we could ever do without it.