Stalling

One of the greatest lessons I have learned from motherhood is how to milk the moment. I am doing this right now, even as I write this blog post.  I am milking this moment that both my mobile kids are in separate tubs, de-sanding after the park, completely entertaining themselves, without fighting, without getting into anything, without breaking anything, without rearranging the presents under the tree again. At this very moment no one is crying, no one is asking for anything, no one is tattling. Every thing is right in the world.  

I should be rushing them out of the tub and onto the next activity, or I should be mopping my now sandy floor, or folding the laundry.  But I am stalling. I am milking this moment of peace and quiet.  

Usually these rare moments of quiet mean that something terrible is happening behind a closed door. Like yesterday, when I suddenly realized that it had been quiet for a while, I found that #1 and #2 and taken EVERYTHING out of #2's closet.  In our tiny house every closet is packed like sardines. So you can imagine how much stuff was unfolded, unpacked, and unhung.

I knew it couldn't last long. #2 is yelling for me.