This was an interesting pair of weeks. Two short weeks strung together – well, more like a midget week and a short week.  The midget week was brought to us courtesy of Hurricane Issac. The short week by people who work and celebrate their working by not working on a Monday.

Since having a bajillion kids (or 3) I have new perspective on all holidays. For the creative, non-focused, stay-at-home mom (read, domestiflated), non-major holidays no longer mean days off – they mean disrupted routines wrapped in limited availability of structured activity. Also known as “Quick, figure out something fun to do with the kids before you end up caught at noon with your bathrobe still on, 13 half-finished projects and kids who think napping is a tag-team sport.” days.

There’s guilt because you know you should be doing something amazing, guilt because your short week has no shortage of regular things on the to-do list, and guilt because, well, instead of revisiting point number one of this sentence, you’re instead on the internet racking your brain to find a randomly witty counterbalance to end this sentence on point 3.

And then it happened.  I put down the computer. Left my phone inside. Stripped the two babies I was home with down to their diapers and let them play in the hurricane* on the deck.  I don’t know why this never occurred to me.

Babies. Skin. Rain. Boom.

Hours of sincere lovely awesome.

I don’t know why I make it so hard in my mind.  Developmental minds crave novelty – they crave sensation – and they crave the love and security of spending sincere, joyful, stress-free time with their mother.

Every day I’m a little better.

*Note that Hurricane Issac was NOT a real hurricane to our area. I may suck at domesticity, but I don’t let the kids play real-life weathervane games.