corduroy weather

Golden, you are,
October.
Golden sovereigns on your trees.
Golden guineas on your floor,
golden coins of leaves that fall
for us to scuffle through
and rustle
and rattle
and hustle
and scrabble
and dabble
and paddle 
as they fall
into an October carpet
which hides
our shoes. 
-from  Around the Year by Elsa Beskow

Last night, as I tried in vain to slow down after a day of buzzing from one thing to the next, I climbed into bed next to Mike and announced that I have a disease. A do-too-much disease.

He laughed and said, "I've been telling you that for almost fifteen years!"

I see. Well. I suppose I do have a tendency to over-extend, volunteer, and generally let my enthusiasms get away with me. Yesterday involved school for Gabriel and Frances, work for me, an after-school music class for Gabriel (during his usual naptime), an after-school dance class for Frances, the biggest tantrum of Gabriel's short life, culminating in a mad dash through a parking lot thronged with SUVs and minivans (whose drivers could not possibly see a barely three-foot-tall person sprinting along the ground beneath their lofty windshields), a flurry of phone calls outside dance class in search of a babysitter, a quick mac-and-cheese dinner for the kids, a change into grown up clothes, and a reception at the Government House in honor of a very cool new program in Maryland. Then I came home, relieved the sitter, worked a bit more, and greeted Mike around 10:30, after his final class of the day. I hadn't seen him since 8 that morning.

This is not how we do things. What is happening?

I have no one to blame but myself. This mama, like many before her, sets the family tone and rhythm. I make the social commitments, schedule the classes, and set my work calendar. We had a special visitor over the weekend, various church activities on Sunday, and now I am sitting in my chaotic house, hoping the boy is catching up on sleep, marveling at how we fell off the lunch-planning wagon so soon, and wondering how I can slow. everything. down. 

There are plenty of good reasons to pursue everything that we pursued yesterday (like chatting with First Lady O'Malley!) but maybe it is time to make some choices. Otherwise, perfect days like today would forever elude me: Gabriel and I ran a few errands, stopped to collect stacks of new books and read at the library, and soaked up some long-awaited autumn sunshine over a picnic in the backyard. With sports guys books, of course.

If I had scheduled our morning away, we wouldn't have had time to brainstorm a Halloween costume, or sing ridiculous songs, or examine the latest crop of baby grasshoppers bouncing lightly over our picnic blanket. I wouldn't be comforted by the smell of chipotle white bean soup simmering on the stove just now, nor would I have finally folded and put away the basket of clean laundry that had taken up residence at the top of the stairs. What a relief! It had been sneering at me for days.

It is corduroy weather, finally. These perfect days slide so quickly into the dark gray chill of winter. I'd hate to succumb to the lure of doing-too-much, only to look up and realize I'd missed the golden days of October.