We bathe (most days).
Some days we have an outing.
To the park (or errands, or a playdate, we're avoiding the library right now -- don't want to face the $8 fine (ugh!)).
A robin red breast perched amid the vibrant berries
The evenings are often harried. Life seems better in an apron, cuter at least. So I wear mine (green with ruffles) nearly every night from five o'clock on. The grumpies come out to play -- yours and mine. Dinner preparation is chaos, but the curry smells good. I watch the clock for your father's arrival. He calls to say traffic is slow. I wither a bit. We eat. The curry is good. We discipline (you must be excused from the table, not just slink away with greasy hands and rice stuck to your bottom). I see bark on the living room carpet -- again. I find the guilty sticks. I return them to the backyard for the third time. There is a threat involving the removal of all sword priveleges if the sticks don't remain outside. You tell me that if I'm a good girl tomorrow, I can play swords, too. I hope I can be good! You rise a few notches on the darling-meter.
And then there is bedtime (blessed hour!) We read stories. I say two. You try to negociate more (you take after your father). We sing songs. I say three. Again...negociations. I rub cream on your back and legs. The stall tactics begin. "I'm thirsty." "I'm afraid." "I think there's a monster under my bed." I remind you that there's too much love in our house for monsters -- they don't like love. You ask me to check just to be sure. Sometimes I humor you. Sometimes I'm beyond that. "Don't be mad," you plead. "The monsters will get us; they like mad."
The monsters will never get us. There's always more love than mad. More love than anything.
I clean the kitchen. Recycle some of the paper that's threatening to take over my life. Read a few blogs. The story of Joshua and the city of Jericho (fantastic!) Talk to your father about the Freedom of Choice Act. I pray, among other things, for a kinder world. I get into bed, tired and staisfied. I think about how tomorrow will begin...
I smile inside,
and hope it happens after 7 am.