This weekend I pulled a new book off the shelf. I’ve had it for a while, and I’ve read bits and pieces of it, but somehow it ended back on the shelf. So when I say New, it’s New to me, again. For those of you that know me, you know I’m not religious, so why read a book with “god” in the title? It was the subtitle that grabbed me, actually: “Reflections for Mothers in a Hurry.”
I realized last week that I was always rushing. And not just myself.
“Get your boots on.. Jacket, mittens, into the car, outta the car, let’s get going, it’s cold.” (Can I blame some of the hurried-ness on the fact that we’ve had 50 days below zero this year and frankly, I’m frozen?)
But I don’t want to be that Mom. The one that’s always rushing to the next thing, the next place, when really, what we need is to just drive until we find Peanut Butter Chocolate Cheesecake and Pumpkin Bars.
Which is exactly what Daughter and I did Sunday afternoon.
We gave Daddy/Husband a quick break (after he threw confetti from the loft into the living room dozens, maybe hundreds of times) and we drove. I let Daughter tell me which way to go. Which coffee shop to find. She didn’t want the one with the play area. She wanted the one that’s in a red brick building on a corner. What she obviously knew is that that coffee shop has “bakery” in it’s name and is full of all things sugary and sweet and chocolatey and heavenly. The car seemed to find it on it’s own.
And we found a quiet booth and shared our treats: Cheesecake for her; Pumpkin Bar for me.