Thursday, November 3, 2011


{scrunchie-just-woke-up-face. And just like cellulite on bumcheeks, it's only cute on a baby. So unfair.}

It's Thursday night. Kids are in bed, Tyler gone to a church meeting and basketball night. The house is quiet and I'm surveying the dinner/cupcake-making damage. It ain't pretty.

But the wind is howling outside, and hard rain has started pattering the windows. 
It might turn to snow soon, our first little dusting: so grand!

I peeked in to check on Ellie in her bed. She wasn't yet asleep, but sat whispering in her gibberish. Oh my land I could melt hearing that little voice. I stole her from bed for a minute and rocked her and sang a lullaby or two. She smiled and giggled and nuzzled into my neck. These are the moments, oh yes these. are. the. moments. 
I wonder how I will find my center once my babies grow and I can no longer envelope them in my arms and softly sing and visit with their eyes in the stillness of our home (and on a cold winter night, even better). The silence at the end of a long day seems to scream with meaning, shifting my often turbulent soul into balance. This matters.They have been my most sacred glimpses in life, how will I let go? What could possibly replace them?

You know, even once they're grown adults, with enough tranquilizer and a hefty dose of ambien I could manage to drug them into submission, swaddle them soundly in the trunk of my car and transport them back home to the rocking chair where they belong.

 I'm sure of it. 


The Mrs. said...

" long as your living my baby you'll be."


Dan & Ali said...

Thank you for writing that down so beautifully...this is exactly what I have been thinking lately when I grab Forrest up from his bed to feed him before I go to often I just want to freeze this moment in time! Oh yeah, I'm thinking the ambien thing will be a lot harder (and freakier) with grown men...dang it.