enough, and more than

a stream-of-conscious piece of prose on what constitutes "enough"

my kids racing down the street on a hot july morning🤍

Is this enough, I wonder, watching my children run about a square of sunlit grass, this small plot of land we call our backyard?
Is this enough, I wonder, standing in the kitchen, listening to the coffee pot gurgle, this two-story, two-bedroom home? Will my kids be too crammed in the room they share, in two years time?
Is this enough, I wonder, this attention I give, nearly always split between a chatty and imaginative toddler boy and a curious, on-the-go baby girl, this attention so often fragmented, this attention I try so hard to pour on my children while worries and to-do lists and half-formed thoughts and half-finished stories swirl about my brain?
Is this enough, I wonder, scooping my crying son into my arms, this body—as comfort, a safe place, his home?
Is this enough, I wonder, squatting to make space for my daughter, too, since she’s crying because her brother’s crying, is my body big enough for both of them? Is my heart?
Is it enough, this love I give so imperfectly even though He loves me perfectly and encourages me to love the same?
Is this enough, these travels along the same three blocks of sidewalk, through the same small borough; these slow summer days spent at home, the three of us learning and growing and playing and crying and giving our best and giving our worst to one another?
Is it enough, these silly rhymes I sing aloud, these stories that I tell, is this enough to entertain, to teach, to be the song of their youth?
Is this enough, these small creature comforts my husband works tirelessly to provide? The occasional ice cream date and grand adventure to a local creek or museum?
Is it enough, I worry, tears threatening to spill over, is this, is any of it, is all of it, enough, for them?
Is it enough? Am I? Is this…

And then I watch my children run to the edge of our property, stare out over the creek I call a river, they call a river, too, flash big, full-face smiles over their shoulders before racing back and wrapping their arms around my legs—and in this moment I do not wonder is this enough because right here, right now, it is. This is enough, and more than.

🤍

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thank you for reading paper playgrounds, where katherine mansfield plays with words and shares essays, lyrical prose, poems and pictures that capture the exhausting exuberance of her mother-writer life. mansfield is a former journalist who is enamored with her current full-time, stay-at-home-mom life. she spends her days playing with, chasing after, and loving on her two-year-old son and one-year-old daughter—and, of course, drinking copious amounts of coffee. mansfield loves reading, watching “the crown” and old hollywood films with her husband, long family walks, and marathon coffee dates with friends. if you like what you read, let’s hang out in the comments! or, please, like or share this post. and if you really like what you read, please consider becoming a free or paid subscriber, or making a one-time donation to the mother-writer’s coffee fund.