Remembering

I ignored my "no surfing" rule this morning. It was miserable. By 10 am, Rudy was a messy heap of whines, and I was totally stressed out about all the things I ought to be doing, according the new food storage blog I'd been reading. Bleh.

Time for some fresh air. After much persuading, we set out for an adventure. (Rudy was to the point that anything which was not his idea was met with a robust "NO".)

We made it to the park, and settled ourselves into our usual swings. Can I just put in a plug for swings? Sigh. They are heavenly. I LOVE to swing with Rudy. We sing swinging songs, chant swinging rhymes, giggle at each other as we pass...not to mention that delicious feeling of adventure I get when I'm swinging just a bit too high: the chains go limp for a moment at the top of my ascension before I 'fall' back into them and swoop down to earth. You can't help but feel better about life after a good swing. Especially on a day like today-with a bright blue sky speckled with friendly white clouds for the background.

Just for good measure, (and because our noses were a bit numb) we stopped at the library for a bit before heading home for a 'redo' on the day.

Then I remembered how important it is to me and to Rudy that I do not get sucked into some website forever while the beauty of my real life passes me by. We had a lovely afternoon together, doing what I think may be my third favorite thing to do with Rudy (swinging being number one, reading being number two): working in the kitchen. I love to work alongside Rudy. He's really becoming quite the little chef. Rudy does great cracking the eggs for me (with the occasional egg shell fishing trip), washing dishes (so long as I've scrubbed them) measuring out ingredients (with plenty of supervision), sweeping...just about everything besides actually cooking on a hot stove or cutting things with a sharp blade. He actually even peeled a carrot with me today.

Working with Rudy helps me remember to take joy in my tasks. Actually, he helps me to change my tasks into my initiatives. They no longer have value just as a means to an end, but have value of their own. Rudy reminds me find deep pleasure in simple accomplishments. It's a blast to high five each other when we finish with the dishes, or Rudy gets an egg cracked particularly gracefully.

Why do I ever fight this joyful life, thinking I can fabricate it from some especially cool post somewhere?