Scenes From the Day

They start like this:

We bathe (most days).

We eat.
And play.

Lily naps. When she wakes up, you run to her room at the first peep.

And join her in the crib! My heart gets a little swollen. You are a sweet big brother.

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!)).

We see beautiful things.

A robin red breast perched amid the vibrant berries

Geometric jet-streams around the sun.

Smiles predominate.

Your four front teeth might be numbers one, two, three, and four of my favorite things about you. So cute.

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.