He is looking like a cat. Not a kitten, a cat.
Oh, dear Mister Washburn Foo, please remain a kitten, or at least retain your kitten charms. Be playful and clumsy, stay small, chase string, give hugs, sleep trustingly, like babies do.
The secret to a successful Monday is
anticipation and acceptance. Most times, Mondays sneak up on me. I feel 'em coming, and dread the inevitability of the Monday rush, the Monday return to school and office, but I fail to get the upper hand, to face the coming day with my best.
Well, even though I wish our year could be nothing but Sundays,
this time I managed to get over the weekend's swift passing, and prepare. Sunday night, I put frozen
croissants on parchment paper, to rise. I double checked to see we had everything on hand for making hot chocolate, too. I put the dishwasher to work, before going to bed. And I reminded Maria to put
everything in her school bag. Maria fell asleep downstairs... she was so warm and snuggly in slippers, bathrobe and the knit Viking cap Diana made her, sleep overcame her, so I found her shoes and socks and set them by the door for her.
It was still a
Monday morning, and I still wished it were Sunday, or Friday, but even the few small steps I took in anticipation made everything easier. We ate bacon and eggs, with warm croissants. Max asked for a hint of peppermint in the hot chocolate. And even when we did fall behind, there was far less panic:
Socks and shoes! When we know where the socks and shoes are it's like we are golden, amazing beings with powers over the unseen.
I like to imagine that a week well begun will herald more golden moments, more serenity, and domestic cleverness. There is so much to learn, to adopt.
If I can learn to accept kittens growing into cats, and Sunday slipping into Mondays... accept the messes with the blessings, face the hurdles with something good... chocolate, or laughter, rain boots, or a broom, I suppose a Monday can be alright. Pretty good, even.
3 comments:
You make your everyday (even Mondays) look so cozy. You have a knack for that, and for narrating it beautifully, too.
p.s. My kitty Munchkin is four years old and still acts like a kitten.
Judy, you are so sweet to me.
You know what? Staring a golden croissant in the ~face~ can making any day of the week look cozy!
Munchkin gives me hope for our Foo, then.
One more thing, for the sake of honesty: I didn't publish the second half of this post, in which I cried out loud over how much of a failure I feel like. I am working so hard at getting out from under years of collecting, moving, collecting, and moving, and failing to feel secure without my "things." Is this a recurring theme? Yes, I see it is, but I am hoping that I might actually feel at home, here, long enough to let go of hoarding, and let go of my insecurities. In their place, I want to learn how to simplify, focus, and feel confident about settling in.
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