Watching them Grow.

The other day the kids followed me around the house asking the following question,

"what should I do now?"

"what should I do now?"

so much that I thought to myself, "who taught them that?"

At the time, it also seemed like such a bizarre question. I can't really think of a time in the last

decade when I've had the luxury of time - enough time to make me pause and wonder what I should do.

There is always something to do. Always. And by the time I get started with something, another "thing to do" usually catches my eye. Then I begin the new "thing to do" since the old "thing to do" was getting boring. This vicious cycle repeats itself throughout the day until I usually come face to face with the very first "thing to do" I started.

Somedays, that first "thing to do" was re-heating my tea in the microwave and I find the cup of ice-cold tea staring at me when I open the microwave door to heat up some soup for dinner. Oh yeah, I think to myself, I was going to drink tea today.

Other days, that first "thing to do" was gathering the library books & movies to return, and I'm reminded of this task when I'm sneaking into the kid's room hours after they've fallen asleep to quietly fill their drawers - when my hand finds a library book sandwiched between athletic shorts and hello kitty kat underpants. Oh yeah, I think to myself, I put that book in the basket 8 hours ago when I was heading downstairs with the dirty laundry.

And on and on and on.

There is always something to do. For me at least. And, with a house full of toys and heads full of imagination my children should always know what to do. Shouldn't they?

I usually have something horribly boring to suggest like, "brush your teeth/hair/elbows" or maybe "unpack the smooshed banana from your lunchbag". Sometimes I'll remind them of a toy they've forgotten - or hand them the library book I've just found in the fridge. Often though, I'll suggest the obvious, "how 'bout you come here and give the best mom in the world a big smooch!"

But, the other day we were out in the garden and I had tried to help Nonie rake around her strawberry plants. A little spring cleaning. These plants look so promising already, thanks in large part to the summertime temps we've had this March. I was left with little to do, since Nonie insisted on using all the garden tools we had with us (rake, clippers, shovel)... so I sat back on the soft grass, and I watched her work.

Shortly, she deemed the job complete (which it wasn't nearly) and came at me with those same words "Mommy, what should I do now?".

I didn't answer her.

I mean, we were outside on a 70 degree day with a swingset, sandbox, gorgeous rolling backyard and 300 acres of woods waiting at our toes. If she couldn't come up with something to do, I had failed as her mother.

I sat silently looking at the trees and her, from the corner of my eye.

What would she do with nothing to do? I wondered.

She hadn't spent 10 seconds waiting for an answer from me and she'd spun on her heal, walked to her tiny dora the explorer folding chair. She picked it up and carried it to her strawberry patch. The moss colored leaves must have looked promising to her too. Because all that she said (not even to me really but more to herself was), "I think I'll just sit here and watch my strawberries grow".

And I was proud of her because she had found a terribly important job that needed doing. She stepped up to the plate, made sure she'd be comfortable on the job by placing her folding chair just so. And she did it.

She watched the strawberries - and I watched her - grow that day.