This Is How We Do It
Yesterday, I looked at my schedule and saw endless tasks. I looked at my kids and saw endless needs. I looked at my face and saw endless wrinkles.
And then I had a cup of coffee and somehow everything ironed itself out.
My face? Flawless-ish. My tasks? On their way to being accomplished. And my kids? No needier than the average. No, really!
I went to bed early last night - and when I woke up, my son was sitting on my bed, singing the theme song to Dinosaur King complete with beatboxing interludes. My almost-five-year-old sat beside him clapping randomly. I suppose this was to enhance his performance, or perhaps just to encourage him.
Once I hauled my carcass out from under the comforters and poured the kids some cereal, I leaned against the sink with my cup of ambition and admired the golden morning light gilding the yard. It has been weeks since I've been moved to take a photo of anything, and it occurs to me that I'm missing out. We got a late start today, so immediately after breakfast, I rushed the kids through their morning routines and loaded them into the van.
Driving into the clear, chilly morning, I opened the window and nosed the air. I think working in my closet is taking a toll on me.
Last night, I snuggled my eight-year-old, she who is almost as big as me, and read a few chapters from The Princess Bride. I remember when she was a baby, and I planned to read all my favorites to her - and now I am. We're there - and suddenly, I'm looking forward - there is so much I want to share with her, and do with her, and then, most likely, stand aside and watch her do by herself.
I sat on the concrete curb at the park yesterday with my friend and we watched our string-bean children shinny up into trees and fling their bodies into the air. We made small talk about the holidays, and marveled at the sheer size of them. We didn't talk much about the future, but you could feel it, somewhere around the corner. The potential radiating from these kids, these merrily brachiating children flying through the air with no thought beyond a soft landing and doing it again - it took my breath away.