Painting with Reya

I just got the cranky toddler down for a nap (nice and early today). I set up paints for Reya at the table, envisioning a few moments of preoccupation for her, as I tackled the dishes and laundry that are waiting, no looming, around my home. I haven't cracked my math book once, and it is day three of the school term, but the children weren't sleeping well last night so I couldn't get any work done. Heading for the kitchen, I stopped at a small, sweet voice and turned to see her pure look of wanting me. "Paint with me, Mama", she said. I held my sigh, not wanting her to know my dilemma. "Of course I should paint with her", I thought. "That's how it is done." In a Waldorf school the children wouldn't be left to paint alone, yet here I am, a Waldorf teacher trying to prioritize housework and school work over my own child. "Yes", I said. Let me get some paper cut and wet for myself, and another tray." I sat down with Reya, and begin to sing our painting song- a ritual that I had nearly neglected. As yellow and blue flowed together and made green on my page, like the vivid springtime starting to emerge outside my window, I noticed the breath entering my body for the first time in this day. Maybe I needed it more than she did.

Rainbow faeries come to me.
Dance upon my paper, please.
Bring to me you colors bright,
filled with warmth and love and light.