This morning, I locked myself in my bedroom to steal a few minutes of quiet while I typed an email.
When 2-year-old Daniel knocked and whined, though, I took pity and opened the door.
That was a mistake.
He leaped onto the bed and lunged for the alarm clock, switching on the radio with a single slap of his hand. Where did he learn to do that?
Gwen Stefani filled the room.
Seconds later, Raphael noticed the open door and settled on the floor with a pile of clothing next to him. Despite the fact that it was mid-morning, he apparently had not yet gotten dressed for the day.
“Nobody wook!” he announced, pulling on pants and undies.
Next, Juliette entered the room with a spelling list in hand. I put aside my email to quiz her. We’ve been working on this list and I wanted to be sure she had mastered it before moving on to other subjects this morning.
Finally, Stephen wandered in. With a singing stuffed hamster. You read that right. I would like to take this opportunity to publicly thank Fr. D., my husband’s boss, for sending this small gift home with him 2 years ago. It’s a 6-inch tall stuffed hamster that dances and sings an enthusiastic version of “Wide Blue Yonder” when you squeeze its paw. And it never runs out of batteries. Not ever.
The hamster’s voice blended beautifully with Gwen Stefani’s. I called out spelling words above the din and wondered if I would manage to send that email this morning after all.
But it didn’t matter anyway. This is what working at home, schooling at home, living and loving at home look and sound like.
It’s not always pretty, but it’s everything to me. Everything I should be doing. Everything I want to be doing. Everything I need.