Saturday, January 2, 2016
Let Them Eat Cupcakes
I have become a slacker mom to my writing. I have stopped scheduling, planning, organizing, attending. My words, lately, are free to run and play as they choose. They come inside just before bedtime and ask to sit with me to write a letter to a friend or to create a clever Facebook status. They corner me in some neighborhood coffee shop and plaster me with incessant questions, insisting that I give them time, pulling at my shirtsleeves, refusing to go play until I acknowledge their presence. They snuggle with me in quiet moments wanting nothing more than to pen a line or two of gratitude in a journal I keep. They are free and wild and growing as they will.
Sadly, though, it is all too easy for me to take advantage of those moments when they are quiet and staying out of my hair. I am able, then, to do my chores, to pay some bills, to get some dinner on the stove. I am able to, let’s just be honest, do nothing more than sit my backend in a chair and enjoy a good book and a cup of tea. But ignoring my words while they entertain themselves is not growing them into the novel I had hoped they would be.
And, so, I have donned my apron once again. I’ve pulled the little stool up to the counter and put on some silly music. We’ve got out the flour and sugar and sprinkles and beaters. We’ve got the giant bowl and the wooden spoons, the measuring cups, and those little crinkly papers to line the pan. We’re making cupcakes, my words and I. And when we finish, we will sit and relish the time we spent. With chocolate on our faces and crumbs in our laps, we will smile the hugest of smiles, our hearts filled with sugar and laughter and love.