Bubbles

What if all of life’s moments could be enjoyed from within a bubble? Carefree. Uninterrupted.  Personal. Present.

I have this joke with my kids, or saying rather, that nobody can stay mad while saying the word bubbles.  The first time I told my son this we were on our way to school after a morning full of arguments, tears and attitudes.  He didn’t think it was funny and dedicated all of his energy to making sure I could read just how not funny he thought it was through the nasty look on his face.  So I took one for the team, my team of just me, and I tried it.  We laughed the rest of the way to school and it continues to be an inside joke of ours.

Today I looked at the clock, then the mess that has taken what seems a permanent residence in our family room, and my two kids entertaining themselves while I plug away at chores.  I felt an overwhelming rush of guilt and frustration; how can I do anything other than adore them every second of every day? Easy; life. It has to be lived right?

I’d like to live in slow motion sometimes and hit a pause button and in a world where cars drive themselves,  how is this not a thing already?  But ultimately it’s me who needs to be more present and to seclude what’s special and blessed, or what’s not.  Moments are fleeting, just like my patience and time lately and I am missing just way too many of them.  If I could just wrap them somehow, and climb in; soft in form but soundproof from the noise of chores and distractions, and it’s just me and them.  It’s time for a filter of presence in my life; a bubble.

 

 

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