A week ago I wrote this, before being interrupted for another week:
Right now one boy is blaring classical piano music throughout the house. Two kids are playing a board game, and the other two are building with blocks and dancing at intervals. I snuck out to the front porch, literally hiding a brownie in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. Just five minutes of peace would be super. It’s been a long afternoon of school, apple-sauce-making, supper-cooking, and I’m not even cleaned up yet. Time for tea and an undisclosed chocolatey snack.
It sounds all too-familiar, like I was about to type the same words now… as I lick the melted chocolate off my spoon and swallow the last sip of afternoon tea. The kids are all in their rooms practicing how to be quiet. I had a long but beautiful day being a doula yesterday, arriving home close to 2AM. Needless to say, I was pretty exhausted. The last thought I had before drifting off to sleep was: I hope I get breakfast in bed. My super amazing daughter must have known (you see, when you pray, the Holy Spirit is listening, and can communicate that need to someone else who is listening to Him). Her sweet self prepared this breakfast for me, and we enjoyed a lovely morning in our PJ’s.
By lunch-time, however, my lack of sleep started to kick in. I started making scrambled eggs and dropped one on the ground. I snapped at the children I loved so much. Then, I stopped and apologized for my grumpy attitude. Everyone suggested maybe I needed a nap. Then Nadine smoothed the air even further with her honest comment, “You know, Mom? Your hair looks CRAZY today!” I burst out laughing. It still looks crazy, by the way.
Today she told me she wanted to “talk” before we fell asleep. Thus began our conversation: “I have a question.”
“Yes, Betty? What’s your question?”
“When will I be six?”
“After you’re five.”
“Will I always be six?”
“The whole time you’re six, yes.” We then proceeded to practice counting up to six on our fingers. She is dead set on being six.
She says some pretty hilarious things these days. The other night she lamented in a very sorrowful voice, “Everybody makes me so sad.” When I asked her what would make her happy, she replied, “If you make chicken.” She asked me this out-of-the-blue question the other day: “Mom, can I put this rock in my pocket?”
“Um, sure,” I replied, puzzled.
“Just in case I need it for something.” Good to know she’s prepared.
When I asked her if she wanted apple sauce or yogurt for a snack she answered, “Hmmmmmmmm. I think my body wants yogurt.”
Last weekend, Matthew surprised me with one of my favorite date days ever. We were given tickets to Chester County Day, and drove all around the area touring historical homes, barns, and grounds. It was so beautiful, inspiring and refreshing.
I’ve been slightly obsessed with Instagram the past two weeks. The photos aren’t a false impression of my life, so much as they are a bit of an incomplete picture of it. You might see a shot of apple crisp, but in the background you can’t see the piles of dishes I just washed or have to still wash. You might see us reading books on the front porch, but you can’t see the dirt on the ground, or feel the mosquitoes trying to bite us. You might see the photo of a budding piano-player, but only we can hear the same three songs being played hundreds of times on the keyboard. You see the flower, but not the weeds.
This week’s favorite photos are as follows:
Jack’s ongoing collection of shiny things. A healed bone in Nadine’s big toe. Rock-climbing date with my Elsie Rose. Nadine’s 12th birthday, complete with crepe cake. Love and Daddy. The baby-waiting game. Beautiful clouds that make me wish I was a bird.
The boys just dug out some old CD’s, and we’re rocking out to the Kry, one of my favorite 90’s music memories. The girls are “secretly” rearranging their room (even though I could hear the furniture scooting all around their room from where I lay in bed while attempting to nap). My hair is still crazy. My heart is full.