Silver Pennies: This Circus Life

I used to frequently compare having a baby to college life. You eat leftover pizza, stay up insanely late, never clean, or get out of your pajamas. You might read lots of books. You have no idea what you're doing.

Now that I have three children, a circus seems a more likely comparison.

Our home is a vintage red big top. The magical type (no carnies here)
We have a mighty ring leader who's loud and powerful voice helps control the crowd and get the attention of the performers. Thank goodness for him or the whole show might go to hell.

I have a graceful trapeze artist, singing and dancing and reading you poetry. There is a little monkey too. Always gripping to his mama's hip laughing at the other circus animals. And a tiger, powerful and fierce. Beautiful really. Just don't put your fingers in her cage.
Sometimes I am the clown, sometimes I walk the high wire, sometimes I fly magically through air, meeting demands with out touching my feet to the floor. More often I am the juggler, carrying too much and doing 10 things at once.
During Thanksgiving dinner, we even had magicians. Ruby and Lucy were asking, "which hand has the broccoli? Neither, it's in my belly!" Too cute. (and healthy for once)

It is always loud at our house. Always someone joking, someone squealing, someone crying, leaping on furniture, someone jumping from the top of the fridge. I catch myself wanting to yell. SILENCE!

But then what if it was quiet. Silent. Empty. Lonely. Lifeless.

The noise and chaos of my life IS my life.

I embrace it. The crazy, motorcycle in a cage, head spinning moments, and all. (A clown on a unicycle just rode by.) This circus life is shockingly entertaining. It is more than I'd ever hoped for.

Circus life is sweet.