I have nothing to do. Seriously. It’s the strangest feeling in the world.
I came home from the gym this morning with every intention of doing what I do every morning: walking into my house and then moving around mindlessly until it’s noon and time to pick up my youngest son from preschool. Normally I unload the dishwasher, fiddle with the laundry and then deal with whatever random paperwork/emails are sitting on my desk.
When I want to play hooky, I call a friend and go out for coffee.
Not today. Today I decided to see how long I could just sit here. The most useless experiment in the world? Maybe, but I’ll tell you what, I’ve just learned a lot about myself.
I learned that I feel anxious when I sit too still. I learned that I feel invaluable when I’m not trying to keep up the perfect house. I learned that my brain is trained to see what needs to be done instead of what has been done.
This is my “Do Nothing Chair.” Since I am a person who likes a tool for everything, I got it for my home office with the intent of sitting in it and thinking deep thoughts and just BEING. Being grateful. Being content. Being okay with just being. I have not sat in it for more than 5 minutes in 4 months that I’ve had it.
I’m gonna say to you now what I need to say to me (isn’t that how it always goes?): Take a load off… you are strong enough, good enough, busy enough, and smart enough. You deserve a Do Nothing Moment.
I broke my 33 year sting-free streak this weekend… The last time I was stung, I was 6 years old. This time it wasn’t a bee that got me, it was a big black wasp.
I put my hand down on a railing at an outdoor restaurant Friday night and promptly lifted it back up again with what my husband described as a “hurt animal yelp.” He actually said I sounded like a dog, but whatever…
It hurt and itched like the dickens, but it wasn’t until after dinner that we realized I may be allergic to whatever venom that little beast had used to attack me.
My whole hand started to resemble a balloon and it was beginning to travel up my arm.
Off we went to Urgent Care.
We, as Team Phillips, probably do too much as a family, so when they called me into the patient room, we all went together.
The doctor took one quick look and told me to drop my drawers for a steroid shot in the rear end.
When the nurse pulled out the needle, I pulled out my camera. The look on my children’s faces were priceless. My 10 year old daughter thought this whole event was hysterical, my 4 year old son was totally bewildered, and my husband who’s not a big fan of needles just looked away.
Humiliating? A little. Painful? Definitely. But I have to say, we have never laughed so hard together as a family. Sometimes the best memory makers in life are the ones that sneak up on you.
Overheard in my kitchen this morning:
Charlie (8): What is God’s hobby?
Jordan (10): Taking care of people.
Charlie: Are you sure? Why would he do that? He doesn’t get paid.
Jordan: That’s why it’s called a hobby.
I’m pretty sure I should have stepped in from the other room with some great theological answer or life lesson, but I didn’t. I’m just grateful I have an 8 and 10 year old who know that God does indeed exist. Even if sometimes we’re not quite sure how He operates.