It’s trip week at the Jantz-Estes manor. John and Jonah head for Kansas via Indiana and Missouri, reading poems along the way. Gabriel and I will fly and stay longer. It’s hard not to freak a little. Getting us all out the door is never easy. Besides the obvious laundry and packing, there’s a house/dog sitter to train, John’s mid-term grading to complete, the car to ready, a GILLIAN WELCH CONCERT TO ATTEND (this is a real hardship), boxes of books and clothes to load, house keys to make, multiple chargers to locate, three yards-full of leaves to rake, a catalog to finish. Do I have quart-sized ziplocks for the plane? Will we be seated by someone who despises children? How many episodes of Bob the Builder can I purchase for $10? How long will my iPhone battery last?
These are all good problems to have, mind you. Both John and I have jobs we find fulfilling. Two irreplaceable and spirited boys. Loyal and gentle, if intensely eager hounds. A beautiful home. Enough money (most of the time) to pay the bills. To quote the gritty sentimentalist Coach Taylor of Friday Night Lights: “This is not a burden. It’s a privilege.” Or something like that.
Still…there’s the floor.
Living with three boys and two ever-shedding dogs requires a good deal of vacuuming. Today I am trying to practice a mindful forgetting. It goes something like this:
Ugh, I need to vacuum the living room floor.
I am going for a walk. It is beautiful and Not raining. My guts will thank me.
Ugh, I need to vacuum the bathroom floor.
I am taking G to the hardware store to play with drills (okay, and to get an extra house key).
Ugh, I need to vacuum the kitchen.
Catalog. Laundry. Dishes. Not necessarily in that order.
I wish I could apply my so-very-Zen-ness to leaf raking. It does seem that God made north eastern Ohio to satisfy his love of Trees. And then he let the wind blow.