Originally posted on September 25th, 2015
Today I felt like quitting. One can only endure so much screaming, throwing, yelling, and biting. I wanted to cry, scream, and walk off of the job, but being a mother doesn’t allow for such selfish impulses. Instead, I parked the car, stepped out, took a few deep breaths, made two sandwiches, got back into the car and headed for the one place I knew could cool my soul and quiet my mind-the woods.
After a picnic lunch, I could already breath more deeply. The tall pines with their spicy warm scent cast long shadows in the afternoon sun and I didn’t have to be afraid of the boys breaking them. The rocks too where made of much tougher stuff than even my little ruffians and I didn’t worry about losing one under a peace of furniture or breaking one underfoot. The birds may have objected to our boisterous racket, but they’re a significantly less judgemental lot then the public at large. I suppose once you’ve taught your children to fly you can take pity on the ineptitude of human parents.
Amazingly, the boys seemed to sense that they were not the most wild things within earshot and stopped trying to claim the title in favor of observing bugs and collecting nature’s ephemera.
Our walk reminded me of two poems:Birches by Robert Frost. And The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry
