We live in the south. This means there are antlers galore, everywhere.
I had it in my head, that I was going to do this great project. I was going to make some antlers, and they were going to be sculpted from clay all the the name of Bambi, and it was going to be fantastic fun. There were light filled stags dancing in my head with sparkles and perfectly sculpted antlers. I was so excited. I was all, save the deer! Artistic interpretations. And stuff.
I know. I’ll stop while I’m ahead.
I tried twice, and they were a failure of epic proportions. One looking like a raven claw from some Edgar Allan Poe poem that just may come to life and strangle me in my sleep, and the other collapsed in the oven and was reminiscent of a weird tree branch that I won’t be keeping around because it, too, is a bit skeletonhandpoltergiestish.
I have standards. Duh.
This was all after spending a good amount of time on both and bemoaning my failure, when Emerson said, “It’s okay mommy. Just blog about it anyway. Say, cracks are cool, y’all.” And then she picked one up and started making ghost noises with it. “Ooooooooo scary.”
Cracks are cool. That actually happened.
A. Either I’ve brainwashed my child at this point or B. She’s right.
We’ll go with C. All of the above.
Cracks are cool, y’all.
And failure is totally okay.
But here comes the double whammy. I realized I was so into these stinkin pretend (fail)
skeleton hands antlers (which I’ve also discovered other (better) versions of them out there, so never mind…. double fail-blogger probs) that I almost missed this:
Malone asked me to take a picture of him.
I looked up, and there he was, sitting there with this perfect little heart in his hand. Literally. This little piece of love.
I can’t make this stuff up. He’s just thematically appropriate/adorable like that.
And I heard this little voice in the back of my head say, “You almost missed this.”
I almost missed all three kids, gathered around me, at the island, creating and playing happily. Coming up with these pretty little creations that they were so proud of. While I was annoyed over arbitrary failure antlers and the resulting wasted time, they were happy just to be.
Don’t miss this. I muttered to myself.
My heart is heavy.
We’ve gone through a (bit of a tough) readjustment phase of sorts. We’re just acclimating to it all. Life works out like that sometimes. Family life goes through phases and this one has just been crazy. I’ve realized that in stressing out so much over the little things-from lesson plans to family stuff-I’m missing it.
Is it possible to miss something that is right under your nose?
It is if you’re focused on all the wrong things.
I feel like sometimes, there’s just a little too much pressure with the holidays. We toe the line between sharing some super fun ideas that we love, and doing too much.
This season, I don’t want to miss the point. I feel like we often get so caught up in the rush and outright pressure, that we just forget to sit back, relax and take it all in.
We’ve been on a journey for simplicity in our lives. Sometimes we focus so hard on not messing up, and get so distracted by the pressure, that we forget about the basic element of just being thankful.
And in doing so, we miss it.
Because these days, it’s about more than projects and shopping and craziness and pressure and presents. It’s about giving our children our time, and the gift of our presence. A little less stuff, a little less noise. A little more space to breathe.
So here’s to hoping for fun afternoons in a tent. Yoga pants and pajamas and rest with a good movie. For scaling back and breathing deep.
Snuggles in the bed with your littles and/or fur babies. Lots of hot chocolate.
And reflecting that maybe this season isn’t all about the rush of the holidays, but enjoying our loved ones,
and their little handmade hearts.