|A morning spent crocheting is a |
good morning in my book.
Or how you should never say that a moment couldn't be more perfect—not because it would somehow become more perfecter, but rather that it would all fall apart.
This happened to me, one recent Sunday. Chores were done, everybody was happily doing their stuff in their own corner of the house. I was in the recliner, sunlight streaming through the window to my left, a full cup of hot coffee to my right. I was enjoying some time spent crocheting and hanging out with Trisha Yearwood (or at least watching her cooking show. I love me some Trisha.). The kids were quiet. Dad was watching world wide sports of people talking sports on the bedroom TV. It was still early but we'd already accomplished so much.
It was a Sunday morning like I've only ever dreamed of.
I felt compelled to snap a picture of my idyllic morning. My napping dog, my distracting handiwork.
|The calm before the storm.|
And as soon as the camera clicked, all Hell broke loose.
The kids started bickering, the dog jumped up and nearly spilled my coffee. Everybody was yelling. I swear I saw Trisha look out at my family with a look of "Hello? Trying to shoot a TV show here?" on her face.
This is my normal. A crazy, messy, loud, disorganized, did I mention loud house full of people with big voices and personalities. Plus a dog who thrives right there in the middle of the chaos. It's barely controlled upheaval. It's far from perfect.
But for like 5 minutes? It was way more perfecter. And the chaos just made me enjoy it more. I'll take it where I can get it, and if my life can give me little pieces of perfection, 5 minutes at a time, I'll take it.
Any more than that and I don't think I could handle it.