Kids are washable.

I was just making myself my third cup of tea, and musing on the blessings of a quiet morning at home. The hardest part was getting the ram to go out of his stall, when all he really wanted was to be with me. Tricky, that, as he is happy to have you scratch his back or rub his head, but he is equally happy to ram you with all 250 lbs. Imagine having an NFL linebacker in your barn who can put you through a wall at will. OR, he may be content to let you pat him on the nose. In any case, other than the trip to the barn for animal care and ram scratching, I have been at loose ends. I could've, for instance, spoken on the phone for an hour, while sitting at my desk, taking notes. Or, sit here at the computer, typing a blog post. And it wouldn't be a management nightmare. I say this, because I was thinking about another time in my life. The time of small children and acute attention to their every breath. The time when they never left my side. Not for school, or band practice, they were extensions of my arms, and the subject of my consciousness.
When we were moving from Oklahoma to Ohio, I had to negotiate the details of the close on our new house. It was midday, and in expectation of the phone call, I had to plan a safe diversion for my two children (Youngest was not yet in my awareness). I hoped for 20 minutes of uninterrupted time, where my focus could be on something other than my girls.
So, I set them up on the little cement patio outside our back sliding doors. Door cracked, but not open, girls in art smocks, Eldest "in charge". The easel had fresh paper on it, and the paint tray was equipped with an array of bright colors to tempt their imagination, and retain their interest- hopefully for 20 minutes. I explained to them that "Mommy needs to talk on the phone, so you need to stay right here and paint pictures until I come back outside. Okay?" Solemnly they both agreed to this slice of independence. The phone rang, I released them to entertain themselves.

There are my beauties. Eldest already fashioning a tree, Middlest working on her color mixing skills. Never forget that they were not completely without supervision, as I did post Hannah- our trusted "yellowdog", to prevent most tragedies, and she was there, on patrol. She would keep the girls on the patio, and all squirrels at bay. I took a picture, so pleased to see them ready to give Mommy a few minutes.

The entire moving process had been a whirlwind. From the moment Huz had walked into our room (we had a living/dining/kitchen in one) and loosened his tie, informed me that he wanted to go interview at Ohio State, to the moment we moved into our house in Columbus was only a few short months. He had interviewed, gotten the job, I had listed our house, which sold in 3 days, found our new house (with my Mom's help, I had house looked and picked a new one in 3 days), we packed up, drove around in circles for 2 weeks, and moved in. Okay, so it was a bit more complicated that that, but still. It was speedy.
And, with my children's help, and a blessed patio/paint diversion, the negotiations went well. I pretty much got everything I wanted, other than my chosen time for closing, which would be two whole weeks after our Oklahoma closing. This is why we were homeless drifters for two weeks, but it couldn't be helped.
The girls had been quiet for the entire phone call, and I was very pleased with them when I opened the screen door to see what kind of art they had created.











20 minutes for myself meant an exchange of clean up. But, this is how it is for mommies of young'uns. And they were so proud of themselves. I never did find out if they did their own, or each other's faces. Luckily, kids are washable.