It occurred to me yesterday that the intermittent laziness I’ve been
experiencing indulging in since the girls started school this fall can be attributed to one thing and one thing only: this is the first time in over seven years that I’ve had the opportunity to be lazy.
My to-do list is probably as long if not longer than it has ever been. However, I find myself (on occasion) scrapping the list in favor of something like, say, reading an entire novel from cover to cover. Rather than cleaning my house in preparation for guests to arrive, I’ll play on Pinterest, print up recipes I want to try, or just generally be a lazy butt. Some days, this lack of motivation can be directly attributed to a bout of PMS or a depressive episode. But on other days it’s much more simple. I feel lazy.
On days like this, I am confronted with the possibility that I’ve become spoiled by having two children in elementary school and that
if when we have another baby I will sacrifice my days of “leisure” for wondering when I will get a shower/suffering sleep deprivation/and just generally not having any time to myself. And then I feel guilty for feeling that way because adding to our family would be such an infinite blessing, one that I’ve recently been forced to appreciate on a whole new level.
So, I think I will take my days of laze in measure with my days of incredible productiveness and call it a draw. This is a new season of my life, and it may not last forever. I will enjoy the opportunities it affords me on both ends of the spectrum.