The orange Halloween pumpkin is filled with pretzels, granola bars, tortilla chips, and cars.
And CJ will not leave home with out it.
Our little orange pumpkin visits the park, the library, the store, and even the bathroom with us.
And I love it.
Flexibility comes in many shapes and sizes. Sometimes flexibility comes in the form of last minute homework assignments or late nights at the office, family emergencies or the last minute babysitter crisis, long waits with kids or celebrating Halloween for six months. Regardless of it's shape and form - we are inspired by flexibility and it's ability to create deeper bonds of love and trust.
But all too often, we forget to be flexible with ourselves.
Dishes, to-do lists, and expectations are easily dismissed for others... and never for ourselves.
Wednesday nights are writing nights. I pack the lap top, character sketches, and water bottles. I drive to the library, visit the YA section, and find a table. Three glorious hours are mine to write with no interruptions... and I love it.
As much as I love it, it is really hard to leave the sink of dishes, laundry, and crumbs on the floor... and last night was no exception. Instead of writing last night, I did the dishes, ran some errands, edited neuroscience papers, and felt guilty. Guilty that my desires to write diminish my willingness to be flexible all of the time.
Elastics are designed to be flexible and stretch... but when pulled too hard they snap.
I am learning that too much flexibility in my life results in my inability to stretch at all. Putting the dishes, the laundry, and the needs of those around me as priority all of the time is not healthy.
Maybe motherhood is not about learning to be flexible all of the time.
Maybe motherhood is about learning when to stretch and when to say no.
Maybe motherhood is about learning to be flexible towards my goals.
And maybe motherhood is about learning to embrace and honor my limitations.
What do you think?
How would you define motherhood flexibility?
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