Mommy Zen

I'm resting on my bed flipping through channels. Thinking about sleeping. But not. The kids are running up and down the stairs, screeching at each other and the dog, which pretty much precludes the sleeping part of our program.

Zoe opens my door a crack, "Mom, Dmitri's chasing me."

"Okay."

The door closes. It's starting to snow outside. Big, fat flakes.

"Mom, Dmitri's trying to color on me with a blue crayon!"

"Okay."

There's nothing on TV. I should get up and do the dishes, but every time I get up to do something, I remember I'm still not feeling 100%.

The door opens again. "I meant a green crayon. He's trying to color on me with a green crayon."

"Okay then." I just watch it snow. More interesting than Oprah.

What? You would have taken the crayon? You underestimate the power of mommy zen. Being, not doing. Trust me, young padwan.

"Mommy, here's the crayon." Zoe puts it next to the TV. "Dmitri wants to go outside and play in the snow."

"Okay."

"Can I go, too?"

"Sure." I listen to her bounding down the stairs and call after her: "Snow pants!"

And off they go to play in the big, wet flakes.

Yes, okay, so the dog's ear was a tinge green when he came up to join me on the bed. But, remember, crayons are non-toxic. Didn't you read the box?

Being - not Doing. The Art of Mommy Zen.