Happy Bubbles

I was going to do a blog post on my Christmas wishlist. But when I went to look at all the things I want, instead of getting inspired, I got depressed with the lack-thereof in my wallet.

So I trashed that idea. Proverbially crumpled it up and tossed it into the dark void of "ideas for another time".

"Find those happy bubbles," my sister says.

(My sister — mom of 8 — happens to be a master of this on her blog. I read her entry this morning and felt all set and ready for Christmas.)

When she says this, I remember that scene in Cinderella when she sings while scrubbing the floor. The bubbles rise with her reflection. It's one of those scenes that makes cleaning look absolutely magical. Happy bubbles that make an otherwise mundane task — beautiful.

{image courtesy of weheartit}

So I'm breaking up my routine this week with some happy bubbles... (especially for my sister).

::: Recently, I thought I might blow a lid from M's incessant shouting and shadowing. I would've paid some ungodly amount to anyone who could've have entertained her long enough for me to get a silent breath. Her shouting/story-telling/singing/talking continued through lunch. It had reached the point where I just heard noise. Senseless shouting. 

"Madeleine, what is it?!" My aggravation was not even skin-deep. It was festering at the surface. She was standing on top of her booster seat, arms spread and bits of macaroni and cheese spraying onto the table cloth. She closed her eyes in one more frantic shout ————

"YOU'RE MY FAVORITE!!!" She yelled. "MY.... FAVORITE!"

Oh dear. I quickly quieted my temper. Now that I had acknowledged her, she smiled and sat back down. "You're my favorite too, honey."

Sometimes I really just need to chill out and just listen.

::: This photo. Holiday Inn + a cute bottom.

::: When M asked me if she could stay home with me and be "cozy cozy", I had no choice but to give in to my own childlike heart and oblige her. We filled a day with making "snowflakes" out of old scrapbook paper, baked cookies, decorated paper Christmas trees, watched every Christmas special imaginable, and spun around in our "princess" skirts (as she called them).

As hard as being a parent is, these kind of magical days seem to blur out all of the bad ones.

 

These are my "happy bubbles" in the middle of otherwise mundane tasks. Go find yours!