The day is new and fresh. Now what will I do with it? I have my plans, of course, as I normally do when I wake to the sun peaking over the hill. I have a lovely view of it from my bedroom window; on most days, I'm happy to greet it, especially lately as I've made the decision to minimize my stress by staying home more, making a commitment to say, "I'm sorry, but I'm not able to do that." I don't say no to everything, but I have cut way, way back on the things that I do as an individual and the things we do as a family outside of our home. Gone are the days of rushing around looking for choir uniforms, or making hour-long drives to this or that organization, or spending days at a time preparing classes for other homeschooled children who choose not to do their assignments anyway. My focus needs to be on my family, on my health, and on the things that I know I can dedicate my time to fully without stressing everyone out.

So, my days are less stressful now. I know that who I am is not wrapped up in my performances. I can have meaningful relationships with people without "proving myself" through committees and organizations and meetings and clubs and societies. And now, if you ask me to do something and I say, "yes," you can know that I mean it fully.

Which leaves many of my days open and flexible. I like that.

Today, for example, is Saturday. Last year, I would have woken on any given December Saturday with a feeling of dread. What long car ride or unpleasant commitment do I have to greet today? Moreover, regardless of how well I do my task today, someone will not be pleased and I will feel that I've failed. What a depressing way to greet the day! How many things I put on the back burner, like teaching my children basic household tasks, or writing an essay, or making meals at home so that I could "be there" for this or that organization, job or club.

But today, I sit at home inhaling the aroma of my son's breakfast-making--pancakes and bacon-- and listening to the sounds of the dryer running, a blessing that has come about because I stopped saying "not now" to the nine-year-old daughter who kept begging me to teach her to do laundry. She has become a maniac, a laundry-doing machine; she sorts, washes, dries, folds, hangs, matches and puts away clothes better than I every have.

Last night, Bo and I were marveling over Sweetheart's gift as a laundress. When she came into the room, we decided to let her choose what the family would do for dinner that night. She didn't know, wasn't comfortable choosing. Couldn't we ask someone else? Couldn't we take a vote? We explained to her that we were giving her this choice because she had done such a fabulous job taking over the laundry chores. She didn't need a reward, she insisted. She likes doing laundry.

She likes doing laundry.

She likes it.

She. LIKES. it.

And so, doing laundry is its own reward. No other reward is needed.

She likes sorting the whites from the darks.

She likes starting the machine.

She likes putting in the laundry detergent and the fabric softener.

She likes the routine of putting the wash into the dryer.

She likes taking the warm clothes from the dryer, smelling their freshness, folding them and ushering them off to their proper locations.

She finds the reward in the enjoyment of the task.

This is the lesson I'm trying to learn. I will say yes to those things I've been gifted to do, those things that bring others joy, certainly, but that bring me joy because the doing of them is my reward. Of course I have to do some unpleasant tasks, but I'm learning to even enjoy those, and to reap my reward from the task itself, not from what others think of it.

This morning, I have a Saturday, and I have a to-do list that is dotted with reasonable expectations, planning ahead, and relishing the process.

And tomorrow will be new, and fresh, and I will not dread it.

::: saturday and sunday :::

On Saturday, Bohemian and I picked up a free refrigerator that was listed on our local Freecycle list. Today, my dad cleaned it and we plugged it in. It will serve as a second fridge.

Bard and I had a great discussion about what she wants to be when she grows up. We discussed M. Night Shyamalan and how his entire family is comprised of doctors, but at around the age of 11, he decided he wanted to be a filmmaker. Bard says she'd like to be either a filmmaker, a writer, a singer or an actor. She feels those things are too banal for a teen, though, so she's not sure she wants to pursue any of them seriously.

Edison rode to Penny's house and did a bit of work for them. He rode to the bakery, too, and bought himself a donut. He's been thrilled to have this measure of freedom. The freedom does come with a bit of a price, though. When Bohemian and I came home from our trip to pick up the fridge and our fruitless yard-sale outing, it was after noon. Edison was just taking care of the chickens and goats. This has been an ongoing problem, and I actually had to call him home from a friend's house last week because he said he'd done the chores and hadn't. So, when it was time for him to ask if he could ride to Penny's, I told him that he would first have to write up and sign a contract stating that he would complete his animal chores each morning before 9:00 AM. Every word had to be spelled correctly and the punctuation had to be correct. Sure enough, he produced the signed document, and I told him he could go on his outing. This morning, his chores were done by 9:30. I let him know that this wasn't in accordance with the contract. The solution was that he would purchase an alarm clock.

We watched The King and I. We've been on a bit of a Rodgers and Hammerstein kick. When Monet asked if they could watch it, I said that it was a bit complicated and I wasn't sure if he would understand it. He then continued to tell me the entire story, punctuated by agreements from Sweetheart. When I asked him how he knew this, he said it was from The Sound of Movies, which is a documentary about Rodgers and Hammerstein that we watched a couple of months ago. Good retention!

This is how we spent today, Sunday:

Breakfast as a family. Edison set the table. Yogurt pancakes (flipped by Bohemian), hash browns and sausage.
Bard and I discussed the upcoming school year and discussed the possibility of using some of Cadron Creek's curricula. Bard tended toward Where the Brook and River Meet.
I finished True to Form by Elizabeth Berg. Bard and I discussed it a bit and thought it might be a good book about which to do a reading discussion.
Monet read Midnight on the Moon by Mary Pope Osbourne.
Bard and Monet played with (and then fought over) Robotics.
I made potato chips while we played Star Wars Trivial Pursuit. The kids took turns reading the cards aloud. Bard won. Bohemian and I came in second, and Monet and Edison came in third.
I finished my notification letter, which I hope to mail out tomorrow by certified mail.
I joined an e-mail list for Where the Brook and River Meet.

Tomorrow, we will go visit with The Chasers (friends of ours who homeschool. Mrs. Chaser is really one of my best friends. It's so good to have a kindred spirit!) for grilling and a baseball game.