Am I willing...?

Sore throat.

Alas, I wasn't eating my regular quota of fresh ground whole wheat bread, and sure enough, Weston and I caught the cold Donovan brought home from school.

I think I may have picked up 200 Kleenex tissues over the last two days from Donoman the nose snorter!

Today I got to see Weston sing in the children's choir. He's so cute! Not really afraid, but he had a bit of a smile stuck on his lips that he was singing through. It was like someone told him to beam out. Ha. And I love that he wore his bright red fleece pants. He makes me chuckle. He won't wear cool jeans like all the other kids. No no. He only wears SOFT pants.

That kid is so tactile, I think he might fall in love with a bunny.

Dave and the boys helped frost many mini cupcakes for the choir concert and our kitchen is very flour-y.

We also pulled out a few Christmas decorations, but we don't have room or time to put them all up. That was hard on the boys. Of course. I didn't think of it before. They need some things to be the same every year. Christmas traditions have already formed for them just out of precedent. I've been so busy, it's easy for me to let go for now, but not Weston. He had to open every box and longed to take out at least one special ornament. Then he commenced with draping and wrapping ribbon everywhere.

Donovan meanwhile, was forging new swords and light saber handles out of cardboard and drawing on the computer.

They're so into Christmas they even put their seals on my grocery list along with the official stocking stamp.

We had a hoar frost this last week. Suddenly every detail got defined with an inch of icy snow. Stunning. The details I usually don't see suddenly came into focus.

Then Dave announced he'd invited friends over after the show, which is great, except for the fact that our living room was covered. Suddenly the details came into view: craft remains and bag after bag of Christmas decorations and little bits of tissue paper used for wrapping fragile ornaments. I spent a good chunk of my personal writing time cleaning up the living room last night and I struggled again inside.

I don't think I would have stuck with it, had not our dear guest Andrew Cooper started doing the dishes. I could hear him generously hand washing as I kept sighing with frustration.

It feels humiliating to scoop down and pick up all the mess. I didn't make it. Why am I the one cleaning?

The silence speaks.

And I know the answer.

I sigh.

Because I am a mom.

And like it or not, that is what (at some point) mom's resort to doing so they can have company over and use their living room as a sitting area and not just an arts and craft room.

God knows I have other ambitions and desires.

God knows this stooping down is one of my biggest battlefields.

It reaches right into the core of me and asks a simple important question: am I willing to bend the knee?