Fifteen Minutes of Being Mom Again
Some weeks, the plan is the plan. This was not one of those weeks.
It started with a shelf
I pulled out the fall decor and started setting it up around the house. Then I got to the kitchen, looked up at my hanging shelves, and frowned. I've never really loved how they looked. (I blame all the professional decor reels I can't stop watching on Instagram.) So, of course, I put the fall decorations down and redid the shelves.
Then I opened a cabinet.
Then another one.
You can probably guess the rest.
Bins. Canisters. Lazy Susans. Trays. Even our coffee and matcha station got a facelift. By the end of the week, everything had a home, and the kitchen finally flows the way I always wanted it to. Sometimes ADD works in your favor.
The rest of the family is still opening the old cabinet looking for bowls. They'll adjust. Eventually. (If you're feeling inspired, I linked everything HERE.)
Then the house was too quiet
A few mornings later, I woke up a few minutes before 7. That's when Alejandra heads out for work, so I hopped up to catch her for a goodbye hug and kiss.
Downstairs was quiet. No footsteps, no keys, no coffee maker going, nothing.
I opened her bedroom door, and she shot straight up in the dark. "Mom! What time is it?"
She's been working so hard lately. She's up at 5 for a quick workout, showered and out the door by 7, and then she works late into the evening. Her body finally hit snooze for her.
Fifteen minutes
Something kicked in that I hadn't used in a while.
I went to the kitchen and tried to remember exactly how she likes her latte. (This girl has a system!) I made her breakfast to eat in the car. I pulled out her work suit and matched it with a cute top while she tackled her curly Mufasa hair and makeup.
Fifteen minutes later, she was out the door. And she made it to work on time.
I stood in my newly organized kitchen and felt something I don't get to feel very often anymore: needed, the old way. When your kids grow up, the mom duties get quieter. You're still their mom, but you're not packing lunches or laying out clothes anymore. Then every once in a while, life hands you fifteen minutes of the old job. And wow, it feels good.
What I'm taking from this week
Neither of these moments was on my calendar. One started with a shelf I didn't like. The other started with a house that was too quiet. Both turned out to be the best parts of my week.
I plan for a living, every detail and every reservation. But I've learned the plan is just the frame. The good stuff tends to show up in the spaces in between.
I call those God-incidents, and they're the perfect thing to remember heading into our annual mother/daughter trip to the Smokies next week. More on that soon.
Read this next
The Empty Nest Era Is Ending. Here Is What I Am Not Ready to Lose.
What Dan and I figured out when the house got quiet.
Keep readingThanks for being here.
If you'd love a trip planned so well that there's room for the moments you didn't plan, I'd love to help. And if you're new here, I share a little story like this every Sunday morning.
Let's plan your trip Send me Sundays