I do NOT want school to start.
Right now, we’re swimming in the pool every afternoon, we’re leaving rooms messy, we’re reading on the patio in the evening shade. We’re licking Popsicles, dancing to U2 waaayyyy past bedtime, going to week-long bug camps, scout camps, girls camps.
We just got back from a fantastic drive-across-the-country vacation where we stopped whenever we wanted, ate whatever we wanted, slept when we felt like it, stopped at Corn Museum’s and The World’s Largest Egg Beater display, listened to books on CD for hours on end.
Why would I want to end it all?
My kids will be taken from me for 8 hours a day; I’ll be left with the ugly reality of dirty toilets and dusty floor molding. I will stand in my empty house each morning wondering how it all came to this. I might have more time to write, but what will I write about? Homework? Spaghetti stains? Math Club? I’d homeschool them if I thought I could actually teach them anything at all about polynomials or planetary orbits, but my homeschooling attempts would mostly involve reading and playing.
I haven’t always felt this way.
Many an August has brought the supernal pleasure of watching my children head out the door for matriculating endeavors. I would heave a heavy sigh of relief to know that regimented and structured life had returned to our home.
But not this summer.
This summer has been a joy.
It’s been a choice.
I’ve decided that my happiness is mine to choose, I’ve decided to listen to all that advice I so easily dish out to my kids. My happiness is not something bestowed upon me like a royal crown. And since I have no idea how long my life will be, or how healthy my future will be, I’m speeding things up. I’m choosing now to enjoy it. I’m not going to wait any longer for the happy fairy to find me. I dragged her over to my house. Why did it take all that pain for me to realize that I can enjoy my life now?
I choose.
I choose.
I choose.
And I did.
Thank you Lord for my choices.
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