this is where the time goes . . .

At ten o’clock last night, I sat on the sofa, sighed deeply and wondered to where in the world my day had escaped.

I told Kevin that the same thing happened to me every evening around ten o’clock.

I entertained thoughts of jealousy of my husband.

There he was, ten o’clock, clearly finished for the day.

Resting clothes, resting posture, resting mindset.

He’d put in his hours, worked his tasks and was done, if not content, with his completion of what had been set before him that day.

And there I was, ten o’clock, mind racing with a to-do list and a wish-I-could-do list.

A sigh of – this is the first time I’ve been sort of alone all day with my own thoughts.  Should I start that one project I’ve been wanting to finish?  I’d love to read a chapter of that novel by my bedside.  Oh, I need to register the kids for that class before I go to bed.  Wait, we’re going on a picnic tomorrow and I need to plan what we’ll be eating.  Did we ever finish the dishes from dinner?  Shoot, I need to look over that science lesson for this week – I think I need to pick up some clay for that lesson on the brain.

And there’s no relaxing clothes and no relaxing posture and no relaxing brain happening on my end of the couch.

Where did my day go yesterday?

I spent a lot of it at doctor’s offices and appointments.

Dental appointments for three.

Pick up Bergen’s new eyeglasses.

Surprised Kevin with a lunch stop at his office.

A pretty good music study in the afternoon.

Rescued a stranded baby mockingbird from imminent death by our over-zealous dog.

A surprisingly tasty dinner made entirely from ingredients from local farmers.  (Even the butter!)

A successful attempt at creating goat’s milk ice cream.  (Also from a local goat farm we toured last fall.)

A little free range time in the yard for our ever-growing chickens.

And a short visit with our pal Hannah and even a short appearance at our house by our pal Mandy.

Yes, sometimes I have to make a list.

Because that’s how my brain can be allowed to make the leap to relaxing posture.

(And I refuse to make a list of all the things I needed to do – or should have done – that did not get completed.  Too counter-productive.)

I imagine, if you are at all like me, and I sort of think every mother struggles with this on some level, a list reminds me that my day was, indeed, full and busy and good.

Want to share your list of yesterday?