“You don't have to be a rocket scientist to learn this stuff, and it's not like you have to change your belief systems.”
It was 11p.m. and Robotson came out into the living room (again) to complain about the blinking light on the printer. He's sleeping in the spare room right now, and he said it scared him last night. I told him to turn it off. He said he'd tried, but it wouldn't turn off. I told him to put paper in the printer and push the button. It was only blinking because it had a job to do. So he goes off to try that, but comes back to say it didn't work. Exasperated now, I go in there and push the button. Voila! It prints. He grumbles about how it only works for me, and I go back to watching Alias on my laptop.
In October, I checked out Everyday Blessings: The Inner Work of Mindful Parenting from our library system. I let it sit around until I ran out of renewals, then I went up the library and begged them to let me recheck it out again. I read maybe three chapters and finally turned it in. The problem was I couldn't read it without feeling overcome with emotion. Every time I picked up the book, I cried.
"There are times when we feel that things are basically sound in our family. Our children seem happy, strong, and balanced. The very next day, or moment, all hell can break loose. Our world fills with confusions, despair, anger, frustration. What we thought we understood is of no use. All the rules seem to have changed overnight, or in an instant. We can feel like we have no idea what is going on or why. We can feel like the biggest of failures, like we don't know or understand anything."
Those sentences move me. I've never read anything in any of my other books that explained so perfectly how I feel sometimes. I ended up buying it because I knew I had to read it.
But I've been reading Jane Eyre. Before Christmas, I noticed a book by Jasper Fforde on my shelf called The Eyre Affair. I'm not even sure how I got it, but it looks really interesting. I figured I'd read Jane Eyre first though since it's a big part of the story. I'm usually a pretty fast reader, especially when the story is good, but I've been dragging it out. Procrastinating, really. I should be reading my books on mindfulness.
There were so many reasons for me to be annoyed with Robotson last night, but I went back in there and sat down. We didn't discuss the printer, or anything of importance really, but we both needed to be present for just a few minutes together. All of a sudden, he was sleepy and I tucked him in.
We've all been sick and grumpy this week. I wonder how much easier it would be if I could just stay in the moment. I think it's time to finish Jane Eyre.