A few weeks ago in my Learning Circle, we discussed an article, 'The Power of Optimism'. We each shared different times in our mothering when we had chosen to smile/laugh when we really could have cried. Following our meeting, my good friend did a whole blog post about times as a mother she has been able to laugh instead of cry. After reading them, I admire her even more than I already did--she deserves some serious praise for smiling at such things as her children vacuuming up dog diarrhea or a child poo painting on the wall. (I promise not all of her experiences involved poo!)
Optimism, ability to laugh, seeing the silver lining, seeing what really matters-however or whatever way you put it, isn't exactly my strong suit. In less than desirable circumstances, I'm far more prone to anger and a raised voice than a smile and laugh.
Whether it is the Power of Optimism seeping into my psyche or just sheer mothering exhaustion, I have smiled a lot lately upon seeing stuff like this:
If horse art furniture isn't trashy enough, add to it that Drew is always holding a pencil (to lead music with) while standing in front of the music stand which more often than not has open music books on it. And when focused Drew watches choir directors and music teachers write in music books, he figures it is open game for him to as well. Doesn't matter to him if the $25 book belongs to the harp teacher!
Thank heaven Drew only uses pencils.
His markings erase really well.
The same can't be said about Joshua.
Despite our furniture and belongings beginning to resemble items that are found at landfills and local Goodwill Shops, I smile.
How's that cliche poem go about the fingerprints getting higher and higher until they gradually disappear?
Surely the same applies to horses and backward 's'es.