Pancake breakfast. 
Sometimes in my avoidance to make a mess by cooking and having to clean up, I make a bigger mess…
4 pancakes leftover from last night’s fun breakfast-for-dinner.
3 kids.
You know this is going to be ugly, right?
I could have just made more. I could have pulled everything out and recreated the awesome ‘cakes I had created last night complete with all the fixin’s, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to finish what I was doing – for me.
Incredibly selfish, I know.
It could have waited. I could have gotten them fed first before I dove into an early morning writing session – but the kids weren’t even up yet and I was inspired! Can we ask inspiration to hold on a sec while we deal with the mundane? When inspiration is literally having it’s way with us – and we are liking it so much we don’t want it to stop?
Can we, (can I?) find a sweet and un-messy spot between inspiration and responsibility? (and not have it turn into a battle…)
So many small choice points along the way that would have taken us down a different path: I could have told my muse to wait just a few moments longer; I could have gotten up a little earlier; I could have told them to get a snack before I made the full meal deal…
I could have.
Being the only adult in the house at the time, it was my responsibility to make those choices, I could see the big picture from my 12” height differential and 47+ years of experience, but I ignored those guideposts, those choice points.
…and a right side up morning, quickly turned upside down.
Like a poorly flipped pancake that misses the griddle and oozes over the side.
Sh*t. More mess.
I just wanted to finish what I was doing – how did this get all wonky?!
I pleaded with the younger one to share the last pancake with the older one. She refused. Her friend, our overnight guest, bearing witness to the debacle.
I tried accusing the little one of having a small appetite – she rarely finishes the 2nd one anyway… please just share!
“No!”
Tears. frustration. More bickering between siblings. More cursing under my breath.
Through the crackling tension in the kitchen, I see the result of my choice. I see how I could have honored my muse and my charges, and even myself, but instead I tried to weasel out of my responsibility, out of having to make more food and thus mess up the kitchen – which would honestly take 5, maybe 10 minutes to clean (it took less than 5 after all – dammit!)
Instead I made a bigger mess. The kind that sticks around for a longer time than necessary, like that chatty repair guy who keeps talking to you about how the fridge broke in the first place when you don’t give a rat’s ass and you just want to get back to what you were doing before he showed up.
The kind of mess that affects others, that sucks time and energy from everyone involved.
Messy apologies. Embarrassment that a friend had to see this, will she tell her parents?
More internal mess ‘cause now shame and guilt have shown up to give their ill-mannered advice.
I ground myself before I open my mouth to say something I’ll further regret. A fresh breeze blows in. Love and Grace somehow slipped in the backdoor and whispered words of sanity and self-forgiveness in my ear.
Acknowledgement. Owning up to my part. Apologizing for throwing fuel on the small tender spark of desire for more pancakes and turning it into a bonfire of insensitivity.
The cool thing about kids?
When we admit we screwed up, they forgive pretty darn quickly. If only we, as parents, could remember how to do that so easily.
Thank God for small breezes that sneak in when we leave the door open.
And, thank God for the muse who waits patient as a lover; for the muse knows what we do not: there is magic, and even healing, in mundane responsibilities.
If you would like to know how I ground myself daily, especially when the pancake hits the floor (as we all know it will from time to time), click the gold box below to get my favorite grounding tool: the Inner Voice Reboot.
Yes! I want to shift my energy now >>
From My Heart to Yours,
Kris (MessyMysticMama)
