I had a brief flash of insight this past week. Maybe it was just the paint fumes, but I don't think so. I decided last week that my living room was going to get painted. So it did. I set out to do it, and a couple of hours at a time, it's gotten done. I still have some of the trim to finish, and there's furniture to move back tonight when DH gets home, but it's mostly done.
The significant thing here is, C was still home. And most of the time, she was awake. And only once did she intentionally touch the wet paint (and once more by accident).
This put me to thinking about how many things I haven't done, how many things I've put off, just because I didn't think I could do it with her around.
How often do we use our kids as an excuse for not doing something? I mean, sometimes it's legitimate, and I'm not talking about those times. I mean the times when if we're honest we have to admit that we're using the kids as a cop-out.
And then I thought, how would that make her feel, to know that mommy didn't do all these things just because of her presence?
Food for thought.
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