Although I haven't fully determined whether this is a good or bad trait, I've become a master at blocking things out. Yesterday afternoon, I sat down to grade the speeches my students had presented that morning, pushing aside an overturned box of Legos and stacking Play Doh to claim my own small corner of the kitchen table.
Yes, this is where my deep thinking happens these days.
Barbies hover from the light fixture overhead, like a hot pink angelic host.
They've been dangling there for weeks in full sight, yet I hardly see them anymore.
In many ways, blocking things out is a valuable practice. Necessary, even. (I'm not sure about you, but if I didn't block out extraneous stimulation, I'd be on such sensory overload that I'd never accomplish anything!)
But today I wanted to focus on these details. I wanted to chronicle that on this day, I graded speeches in the midst of Legos, Play Doh, and Barbies, as my youngest daughter circled around me, singing and chatting and playing.
These sights and sounds and messes are a constant backdrop to my current life -- so ordinary, so everyday, so taken-for-granted. Afternoons won't always look this way, though. Neither will my kitchen table or my light fixture.
Today, I want to document that it did look this way.