I pressed the snooze button on my alarm this morning at 5:45 and closed my eyes again. It was too late, though. The list of responsibilities had already begun scrolling across my closed lids. At 6 swung my legs out of bed and began to record the ever-growing to-do list in the notes on my phone.
In the midst of packing lunches, finding coats that aren't "too puffy," combing hair into a "half pony, okay mom?", fixing breakfast, and finding shoes, a little blond haired boy wandered into the kitchen then turned and headed for the couch. I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief...one less breakfast I had to make. I wasn't even going to make him wear shoes for the big kid morning drop off. Just toss a fluffy blanket over the car seat, and voila! We were on our way.
Only, we weren't. The moment the garage door open I heard gasps and squeals. "Mommy! Mommy! It snowed!!!!" They ran across the driveway to the grass where frozen dew had turned the ground silver. For children who spent the last three winters living near the equator, this remarkable phenomenon was just as exciting as snow, even when I explained it was merely frost. We took a moment to bask in the newness, crunching it under our feet.
Then the drama began. Eldest timekeeper hurried littles along. "Get in the van. We'll be late." Half-pony girl disappeared inside to find a different, warmer coat. "Come on!" we called. "Coming!" came the faint reply...
"Come on!" a bit louder. Huffing and puffing and swinging backpack wildly, she threw herself tearfully in the van. "Why is everyone yelling at me?" Crying, fighting, yelling for 2 of the 3-block drive to school. Sigh. Tears dried by the time the doors open. Quick kisses. Then quiet in the van again.
*Cough* Oh, yes. That cough that kept him awake two nights ago and home from school yesterday. That blond head peeking out from under the fluffy blanket. "Mommy?" he croaked, "Can we snuggle on the big couch when we get home?"
Yes! Yes, to snuggles. We had a good hour before we'd need to leave for preschool. As I settled in next to him on the couch and covered us with a blanket, I began mentally shifting my to-do's.
This couch by the window is our special place. It's the place where the world slows down a bit. A place for cuddles in the morning, books in the afternoon, and prayers at night. It's a place for feet up on the old coffee table, warm, fuzzy throw blankets, and sipping hot cocoa. It's where our whispers float up to the ceiling as we search for birds in the branches outside and where our belly laughs fill the room when we all try to escape daddy's tickles. It's my favorite spot in the whole house.
"Let's look for birds," Caleb whispered, turning toward the window.
"Okay," I whispered back, cupping his tiny, round, warm cheek in my hand. He nuzzled closer, and I could feel his warmth. Too warm. A quick check with the thermometer confirmed my suspicions. A note to the preschool teacher, a note to my morning meeting coordinator, and we settled in again.
Luckily, he is just sick enough. Not scary, call the doctor or rush to the hospital sick. Just sick enough to stay home. Just sick enough to want to snuggle. Just sick enough to sit still for an entire cartoon, commercials and all. Just sick enough to make me slow down and whisper and search for birds and cuddle.
So thank you, Lord, for giving us those unexpected gifts. Those just sick enough days.
In the midst of packing lunches, finding coats that aren't "too puffy," combing hair into a "half pony, okay mom?", fixing breakfast, and finding shoes, a little blond haired boy wandered into the kitchen then turned and headed for the couch. I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief...one less breakfast I had to make. I wasn't even going to make him wear shoes for the big kid morning drop off. Just toss a fluffy blanket over the car seat, and voila! We were on our way.
Only, we weren't. The moment the garage door open I heard gasps and squeals. "Mommy! Mommy! It snowed!!!!" They ran across the driveway to the grass where frozen dew had turned the ground silver. For children who spent the last three winters living near the equator, this remarkable phenomenon was just as exciting as snow, even when I explained it was merely frost. We took a moment to bask in the newness, crunching it under our feet.
Then the drama began. Eldest timekeeper hurried littles along. "Get in the van. We'll be late." Half-pony girl disappeared inside to find a different, warmer coat. "Come on!" we called. "Coming!" came the faint reply...
"Come on!" a bit louder. Huffing and puffing and swinging backpack wildly, she threw herself tearfully in the van. "Why is everyone yelling at me?" Crying, fighting, yelling for 2 of the 3-block drive to school. Sigh. Tears dried by the time the doors open. Quick kisses. Then quiet in the van again.
*Cough* Oh, yes. That cough that kept him awake two nights ago and home from school yesterday. That blond head peeking out from under the fluffy blanket. "Mommy?" he croaked, "Can we snuggle on the big couch when we get home?"
Yes! Yes, to snuggles. We had a good hour before we'd need to leave for preschool. As I settled in next to him on the couch and covered us with a blanket, I began mentally shifting my to-do's.
This couch by the window is our special place. It's the place where the world slows down a bit. A place for cuddles in the morning, books in the afternoon, and prayers at night. It's a place for feet up on the old coffee table, warm, fuzzy throw blankets, and sipping hot cocoa. It's where our whispers float up to the ceiling as we search for birds in the branches outside and where our belly laughs fill the room when we all try to escape daddy's tickles. It's my favorite spot in the whole house.
"Let's look for birds," Caleb whispered, turning toward the window.
"Okay," I whispered back, cupping his tiny, round, warm cheek in my hand. He nuzzled closer, and I could feel his warmth. Too warm. A quick check with the thermometer confirmed my suspicions. A note to the preschool teacher, a note to my morning meeting coordinator, and we settled in again.
Luckily, he is just sick enough. Not scary, call the doctor or rush to the hospital sick. Just sick enough to stay home. Just sick enough to want to snuggle. Just sick enough to sit still for an entire cartoon, commercials and all. Just sick enough to make me slow down and whisper and search for birds and cuddle.
So thank you, Lord, for giving us those unexpected gifts. Those just sick enough days.
No comments:
Post a Comment