The wind was high, whipping through the leafless trees. The grass was sopping from the downpour, but light was spilling out of the houses on our little street and the lawns seemed to sparkle. The sky was a solid mass of clouds, and they reflected the light from town with a dim, otherworldly glow. It was 66 degrees outside. In mid-November. In New England. At night.
I had spent the day cooking and baking and cleaning and doing laundry and running errands with a tired preschooler and a cranky toddler in tow. My to-do list had spilled over from the night before and was running multiple pages. There were six loads of clean clothes waiting to be folded and put away. I was missing the big kids terribly, and feeling resentful about things I could not control. But at that moment, standing in the warm night and listening to the wild wind, I felt like my life was perfect and I had found balance. ... [More]
Has that every happened to you? Share your story with the rest of us -- we sure could use a little more balance! -- here or over at The 36-Hour Day.
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