Slowing down

I have this horrible tendency to do everything at the speed of light. Just this morning I realized that I am never walking behind Gabe, but rather I'm always walking 5 feet in front of him. It's not that I don't want to walk with him, it's just because I have 2 speeds, 0 and 50 and most times I'm operating at about a 47 or 48. 

Last night was the first night in a while that I actually left the kitchen a mess after dinner. The microwave had remnants of exploded egg in it (yes, I cook eggs in the microwave- very UN Martha Stewart-ish), the pan from cooking the breakfast sammies was still on the stove, the dishes were on the counter top, and my glass still had a bit of chocolate milk circling the bottom. And you know what,  I really didn't care. We brought Ethan's slide in the living room and watched him have a ball indoors while the weather outdoors was drizzly and dull. We went upstairs and gave my homie and bath and then dressed him in MIS-MATCHED jammies. Then, we played. We bowled with fuzzy paint rollers that are part of the construction mess in Ethan's soon to be a reading nook and his art nook. We took turns putting on a witch hat (that mommy puts on so everyone knows when she's crabby), we stuffed a fluffy football under Ethan's shirt and let him chest bump us and pretend to knock us over (which he found to be a complete riot). 

My point here is that I was completely out of character last night. It's not that I don't play and have fun, but that usually comes AFTER all of my cleaning is done and making sure the house is just so-so. 

Maybe it was a short-lived  evolution. Maybe it was an epiphany that will stick. I'm still not sure. All I know is that sometimes it's nice to slow down and just not care.