By and By When the Morning Comes

This morning I was awoken by my kids' caregiver bringing little Adelaide to me. Adelaide has decided that her new awakening time is 6:40 A.M. I'm in denial about this. Molly doesn't start till 7:30, but her room is right by the baby's room, and she gets the gift of hearing Adelaide's morning jabberings and, um...cries. Most of the time, Molly just gets up and handles it, because, well Molly is just like that, and she knows I'm old and need my beauty sleep...okay so it's my don't be a jerk to your family sleep. Last night Molly studied until 2:30 A.M. at the library, and just couldn't do it. So, anyway, I was awoken with a baby falling into my bed like manna from heaven. I tried to ignore her, but if you have ever tried to ignore a 13 month old who wants her bottle, you know it's like trying to ignore a tasmanian devil under your comforter.
I dragged myself downstairs and made the requisit bottle, started the kettle and waited for the ascending melody of the kettle to announce that caffeine was about to jolt me into the reality of another day of dishes and laundry punctuated by telling my kids to glue their butts to their chairs and pick up their toys.

STOP!

This is supposed to be a blog about art life and god right, not the morning meanderings of another stay at home mom desperate for a sense of interaction with the outside world. So where's the art you say?

I say it's right there in the midst of that morning muddle. Where did we get the idea that work can't be beautiful? Could we please strike the work mundane from our vocabulary? Perhaps I am playing mindtricks with myself in order to motivate my body to get out of bed and be the mom to these four kids who I brought into the world without their asking for it. Perhaps...but I don't think so. I think that when I work well, "for the love of God" that I am in line with my first father Adam, who named things. Adam, the first taxonomist, my inspiration. He wasn't even particularly creative in his naming...how about this one. "woman" - noun, taken out of man. Uh, gee there Adam, that seems a little egocentric...how about, "smoothness, or cool curviness"? I guess "flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone" does have a poetic congruity to it. And there is a connection to me. After all, why do I do what I do for my family? Because they are flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone. So today, I name my kitchen, "dirty dish land" and "hearth of homeness" and I pour another cup of joe and I keep trucking, to the glory of God. If I'm really lucky, I'll be able to write a song about it, and maybe some plumber or homemaker, or lawyer, or student, or king, or best of all, a child will be inspired to live more nobly, to weild their crafts to the glory of God.

By and by, when the morning comes...