The sky is falling

Monday morning.

As I sit here, easing into the groove, five days stand between me and birthday party #2 in our season of birthdays. Of course, over those five days, I’ve overextended myself, just a bit. Volunteering at my girl’s school. Deadlines for work. Extra meetings and commitments. News that I am excited to share here, if I find the time.

And, I have to admit, right this minute I’m feeling a bit burnt out on tissue paper and pom poms and balloons. I’ve started the process of taking down the pink and purple of fairy princesses and replacing it with the blues and greens and browns of wild things. But as the vision in my mind meets up with the realities of space and time, well we’re all struggling a bit.

The blue tissue paper pom poms that I’ve scotch taped all over our dining room ceiling to imitate a deep blue sky – they keep falling. I left the room for less than five minutes yesterday evening and when I returned, my daughter exclaimed, “Mommy! The sky is falling!”

It’s now a running joke in our house. Every time another puff of tissue paper flutters to the floor. The sky is falling.

It’s not, of course. But at the end of a Sunday night, at the end of a rainy weekend, when we’re tired and running low on sleep and feeling the burden of all that there is to do, it sometimes feels that way.

But this morning? Well the real sky is still up there. Far above our heads. And I’ve heard promises that, today, it will be blue and bright. Or, at least, brighter than the past few days of dreary and dark and dismal. And, as the week goes along, I’ll find time to reattach our tissue paper sky to the ceiling. And I’ll make way for an eleventh hour resurgence of inspiration and party excitement and oh-my-goodness is he really almost one because that demands celebration! And we’ll celebrate.

Do you feel a little like Chicken Little this morning?