Wednesday, September 14, 2016

A Good Day

The scene:
  • Our house. It's tidy--the nightly post kids' bedtime pick-up has been done. Babies and dollies and Matchbox cars have been put to rest in their proper places, only to be disrupted in about twelve hours. The dishwasher is humming quietly, a week's worth of clothes are in the washer (and dryer).  Backpacks are sitting next to the front door, ready to be slung over backs as we hurry out the door in the morning.  Our windows are open and a cool September breeze is making our curtains waver ever so slightly.  Mason's flipping through the channels (currently landed on an old rerun of How I Met Your Mother) but I can't really hear it anyway because the buzz of crickets outside our window is so loud and somewhat distracting.  (And so is Julia's voice, calling for her dogs which have apparently, run away once again.)  We're clean and showered and well-fed and Ylang Ylang is in the diffuser helping us relax and melt into our selves (just like the Young Living brochure says it would do). 
Today has been an especially good day.  I'm not exactly sure why.  Nothing particularly incredible happened. I didn't experience anything really unusual or extraordinary.  I didn't see any long-lost friends or uncover some amazing profound quote to get me through hard times.  I didn't get anything productive accomplished, didn't do a handstand in yoga, didn't travel to an exotic place, didn't write anything worthy of publishing, didn't say anything that will forever be remembered.  Yet, tonight, as I was lying down with Anna while she drifted off to sleep, I literally was overcome with gratitude for this day.  
Tears rolled down my face as I breathed in Anna's sweet after-bath baby scent-- you know exactly what smell I'm talking about.  It's sort of citrusy and light and sweet with maybe the tiniest hint of syrup-- because someone always has syrup with breakfast.  Maybe all this gratitude "gushiness' was result of the glass of wine at dinner or the candles I burned for the first time in months...but I'm pretty sure it was more likely a result of Anna sleepily saying, "Maaaa-maaaa..... Maaaa-maaaa?  I wuv woo. I wuuuuv wooo!" as she settled into sleep.  This from the girl who refuses to say "I love you" (Wuv Woo) during the daytime hours and insists on saying "No wuv woo.  No like it.  No Mama!"

When I tiptoed out of Anna's room, cheeks salty from tears, I looked at Mason and said, "Do you ever just get overwhelmed with gratitude for this whole thing?  I mean, our life....really!"  He smiled and nodded and said he knew exactly what I was talking about. 

Today was a good day.  I know exactly why.  Something incredible happened-- we all four woke up healthy and (relatively) happy.   We woke up to the safety and comfort of our stable home.  How incredible is that?  I experienced something extraordinary.  I taught a guidance lesson to fourth graders about community and when I invited them to share their feelings about the activity, they opened their hearts and shared with such sincere vulnerability that I could have cried.  How extraordinary is that?  I went to work and saw people and friends that brighten my day and make me want to come back for more...even on Mondays. (Usually)  I was productive.  I went to work and talked a fourth grader out of his tears, received a group hug from 20 first graders, and found a little note from a coworker tucked in my mailbox.  I enjoyed a beautiful afternoon walk to pick up Charlie.  And as we walked home, he chattered about his day and his writing assignment and what he ate for lunch...the whole time keeping his hand tucked tightly into mine.  I dedicated 30 minutes to myself--to my body-- to bend and stretch and move in ways that some 38 year old women can only imagine.  And even though I can't touch my forehead to the ground in Dragon pose (...yet!),  (or do a handstand....yet) I stretched and moved and had fun with this one vessel I've been given.  I traveled.  The three of us took a long afternoon stroll on our nature trail-- Anna insisting to wear her new flip flops despite the tiny pieces of gravel and sand that kept deterring her.  Charlie, ran ahead, lost in his imaginary game, legs jumping, arms waving wildly-- like a marionette gone wild.  And today, I said things worth remembering.  I told the kids I work with that they are important to me. I told Mason that he's a great daddy.  I talked with Liz on the phone and told her to have a good day.  And I cuddled Charlie and kissed him until he played his trump card ("I'm gonna wet my pants!") and I threw Anna upside down until she nearly choked on her giggles.  And I said things that will forever be remembered. I told my kids I love them. I told them they're the most incredible kids. I told them I feel lucky to be their mama.   It's probably not publishable stuff...but hopefully it's memorable stuff. 

And then tonight, as Mason drew their bath and I searched for Blankie, a bright pink streak caught my eye outside our window.  I grabbed my phone and took a quick shot of the incredible sunset-- the sprinkles on the cake that was this day.  This totally normal, sacred ordinary day. 


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