Before-bed read

As Heidi Allen was making last-minute preparations for a dinner party, her two sons accidentally unleashed chaos in her kitchen. But in the midst of the commotion, Heidi discovered a sweet reminder of what’s truly important

It was Friday at the end of a really, really long week. Mike and I were having friends over for dinner and a glass or two of wine—definitely two.

Just before I got home, Mike texted me to say that he had to stay late at work. I was now on my own to get everything ready for the night. Already running late myself, I could feel my frustration mounting as I drove to pick up Haydn and Michael from school. I rushed them into the car and informed them that we were making a few stops before heading home, and that they needed to help me tidy the house.

Both of them started whining immediately. I turned and pointed a threatening finger at them, giving them fair warning that I was not in the mood to listen. They crossed their arms and sulked. Michael even whispered under his breath, “This sucks!” For the next hour, I dragged the boys from one place to the next. The more I needed them to hurry, the more distracted and silly they became. I told them to cut it out, but they didn’t seem to listen that day. My patience was wearing thin.

Just as we finished our last errand, the boys reminded me that we needed to stop at the pet store to pick up crickets for their bearded dragon lizards. “You promised,” they said. And they were right. I had. But in the frenzy of the day, I’d completely forgotten. “Fine, but we need to be fast,” I said, and we raced to the pet shop.

Fifteen minutes later, we were back in the car with some new passengers: one hundred live crickets in a clear plastic bag. I pulled into the driveway with only forty-five minutes left to unpack the car, clean the house, and set the table before my guests arrived. How would I make it?

I started barking orders at the boys like a drill sergeant, but they were focused on pouring the crickets from the plastic bag into the top of their little cricketkeeper thing.

My annoyance started to soar, and I yelled at them to hurry up, but to do so carefully.

I don’t really know how it happened, but the next time I looked up, one hundred crickets were jumping all over my kitchen, chirping chaotically.

I screamed and scrambled up onto a chair to get away from them. My frustration exploded, and rage suddenly gripped my senses. I could feel myself about to start yelling in a way I rarely do.

But then the most amazing thing happened.

As I watched my two sweet boys try frantically to capture the crickets, it felt like time slowed down, and I saw the situation clearly for the first time. They were running around like lunatics, screaming with laughter.

It was pure joy, and it was an amazing thing to watch.

In that split second, I realized I had two choices. I could continue feeling annoyed and angry, or I could let go and enjoy this ridiculous moment for what it was. I chose joy.

Laughing uncontrollably, I jumped off the chair and started chasing crickets with the boys. They were everywhere! Every time we tried to put a cricket into the keeper, another one would jump out. It was like a comedy routine. We squealed with excitement and pretty much had the time of our lives. The clock was still ticking…but we didn’t care.

It took us about 15 minutes to get all of the little guys into their box. Once we were done, my boys enthusiastically helped me scramble to get ready for the dinner. It became a game to see if we could make it in time. We were all in such a fabulous mood.

Mike got home with five minutes to spare. Anticipating the cold shoulder for leaving me to deal with

“I realized I had two choices. I could continue feeling annoyed, or I could let go and enjoy this

moment”

everything myself, he was pleasantly surprised to hear about our crazy cricket adventure. Our guests arrived. We had a fabulous dinner party, and the boys helped me tell them all about our “peculiar plague problem.” For weeks after, I could still hear chirping from some crickets that had evaded capture. It always made me giggle.

That moment is a constant reminder to me that I should never let frustration keep me from enjoying life. Things go wrong, and there’s nothing we can do about that. But we do have the power to decide how we’re going to react to things.

Next time you feel negativity bubble up inside, just chill, take a few deep breaths, and try to think of something that makes you happy. You’ll find something if you try. Wouldn’t you rather laugh than lose it? Choose joy. —Heidi Allen