Because one day I'll look back and wonder

 what more I could have done to seize each day.  Every moment needing to be busy, needing to prove something to myself or those whose opinions I value. A quick glance around my house sends my thoughts into a spiral of self-deprecation. "Why did I just sit there and watch the news, I could have been cleaning the living room, or folding the laundry" "When my husband comes to get the kids to take them to his place, he's going to see the mess in the house and wonder what I did all day."

To be fair, I have been sick, like sneeze out a lung and coughing, fevery kind of sick.  That doesn't seem to stop my thought train from deciding that I should have been doing more to prove I'm not a helpless stay at home mom.  So while my brain has checked out of reality, for now, because my ears and sinus holes are full of mucous (mucus?) and everything is a little sweaty, I somehow found the moment that is "THE POINT" for today. 

I complied with my son's request to cover him with blankets and pillows on the couch.  He had created a pile of pillows (from my bed) along with an assortment of blankets that each have a story to tell.  I can't seem to get rid of blankets. I have blankets from my childhood, as well as blankets I wrapped up my babies in, a blanket that was a gift from the college when I graduated, a handstitched blanket my mother made for my first born baby girl. Each one I threw, half-heartedly on top of my 7 year old's form lying straight and statue-like on the couch, then I promptly walked away, having done my duty to his play.  

He quickly called me over for a redo.  "MOM! you don't just throw them on! You have to put each one on right!" Somehow, from the bottom of the pile, he knew that I had given no thought to the arrangement of the ceremonial burial of his squirmy body. I started over, stating that he was "NOT allowed to complain if I did it wrong this time!" I placed each blanket and pillow strategically over his limbs, making sure not to cover his face, but also not forgetting the toes. Once finished and declared by him to be 'just right,' he carefully climbed out of the pile and took off to play somewhere else. 

As I watched him climb out and I was thinking "What was the point of burying him if he was just going to climb right out?" I understood that to be the point.  What's the point of having blankets piled on you? Just for the fun of seeing if you can climb out of them without messing them up. Once accomplished, it's time to move on. 

Some might find the Nihilistic view of life to be "Pointless, depressing or hopeless" I myself was one of such people. I couldn't understand why, if there was nothing to look forward to, would anyone do anything productive? Do all Nihilistic thinkers find joy in the 'pile of blankets' just because they can? Are all children Nihilists? 

My efforts to seize each day, or live life to the fullest, or find joy in the journey have usually been in attempt to prove that I can be optimistic in the face of difficulty. That I am worthy of the calling I have as a mother. If I had only focused on these futile attempts to prove my worth and value as a person (aka cleaning my house) I would have missed the point, which was to climb out of the blankets. To meet someone's eyes and say hello. To have a day where you just sit with your daughter, paint your nails and watch the news and feel sick, while trying not to let the stuff dripping out of your nose hit the keyboard. 

This is not a post about the "little moments" or the "Joys of motherhood."  

Or maybe it is. 

Because as cliché as it sounds, that is exactly what life is for.