Today started with a list of things to do that was way too long.
It all came to a screeching halt when I realized my middle kid really wasn't feeling well enough for school. Plans were rescheduled and canceled. A snug bed was made up with books and lovies to keep him company. A candle has been crackling all day and laundry is getting done. Homemade chicken noodle soup was scrounged up with make-do ingredients for lunch, and Goldfish took the place of saltines. Heck, I even got some laundry done.
Along with a sick kid came the rain and a cooler, very fall-like day. Dropping off the other two kids at school this morning was eerily familiar of my own childhood school mornings. Dark, damp and cool. Daylight savings time is drawing to a close.
Autumn is officially here, I'd say, and I am so glad. It's my favorite time of year.
At soccer this weekend, my friend and I were lamenting how even though this is our favorite time of year, we're almost too busy to enjoy it. Busy. That word gets me. We're no more busy than other families, I don't wear it like a badge. I hate it. It's the way it is.
While my first inclination this morning was to be slightly annoyed that my middling chose this day to be sick (I am a terrible mother), I've found myself really enjoying the slow day. An actual cooked lunch, not something slapped together to be thrown down in 5 minutes was nice. A sweet face at the table was nice, too. A meal planned for this evening with dessert to boot.
A day that's a gift. Unlooked for. Enjoyed. Slow.
And really, everybody is happier when laundry is done. Not having clean underwear in the drawer will get anybody down.