It’s Sunday afternoon.

I’m home, with my family.

My children are playing on their electronic devices. My husband is nap watching the little one on the couch while the big one occasionally calls out, “Huh?!” when he thinks someone is talking to him.  I am watching the little one too, and blogging, and sending e-mails, and drafting welcome messages to my students. Today, I’ve already run 3 miles, gone to 3 grocery stores, fixed lunch, had a tea party and gone to the playground with my toddler, helped my pre-teen with a book repurposing project, and set up several meetings for this coming week. Yesterday, I spent the morning at my local Women’s March with my little girl, had 2 hours at home, then went to choir practice and church, came home, helped a former student with homework virtually, and tucked in both kids before crashing at 9pm of exhaustion.

This is my life at the beginning of every semester, and pretty much throughout the entire semester. It is a life of overdrive.

But, this blog post is an act of rebellion.  It is a moment among many moments where I am not going full force forward or zoning out (to avoid going full force).  It is a moment of reflection, a moment to breathe, a decision that I will not be completely overrun by all there is to do so that I cannot be present to what’s so.

It’s been a busy day. But this is a quiet moment.  And in that, there can be a smile and a silent celebration.