Making Time to Smell the Mint

“Will you come and smell this mint, Mama?”

I was so tired this morning and as usual, we were dangerously close to being late when my son called to me.

For once, my morning exhaustion wasn’t due to my toddler daughter.  Instead, my son woke us up at 5:00 a.m.  When he came into her room this morning, he was looking for me.  I was already there, almost asleep again with her.  I tried to shush him out of the room but he had something to tell me.  The something turned into nothing, but the damage was done:  my daughter was wide awake.  And while I tried my best not to act or speak in frustration, I wasn’t at my best and regretful words spilled out.

We all rebounded; he apologized for waking us up and I apologized for my words.   He made me a coffee in the Keurig and I made him a waffle.  And we moved on, but our pace for the morning was rushed after our tired bodies spent too much time snuggling on the sofa.

While I was loading up the car with backpacks, lunches, and other school supplies, he ran to the garden to find that fresh mint had sprouted.  My hands were full with his sister and my coffee when he called to me, “Will you come and smell this mint, Mama?” 

My first impulse was to tell him to hurry up and get into the car because we really needed to leave.  But I’m learning to try to see beauty in the everyday.  So instead, I walked over to where he was standing with my daughter to find his hands outstretched with fresh mint. 

The crisp and gloomy morning was a sharp contrast to the promise of summer held in the leaves of the vibrant green mint.  I breathed in its smell and the kids took turns doing the same.  And there, in our yard, we all felt rejuvenated–all because my son took the time to see and show me the fresh mint.

And while my kids might be a deterrent to any sound sleep I might otherwise get, they sure do show me the world when they’re awake.

Thanks for Mothering the Divide with me, as we try to slow down enough for the beauty of the everyday to surface.  I hope you’ll take an extra minute to see things the way the children in your lives do.