Perfect End to a Lovely Day

A lovely gem of a Sunday. Breakfast at a favourite restaurant, followed by Son playing with abandon at a nearby park. The perfect mix of activity and laziness, with minimal tantrums by any of us.

At the end of the day, Husband and I manage to convene in our living room, cuddled together with heads on the nursing pillow, as usual. The light shines on his face and I trace it over his cheekbones as he chats to me about something he’s interested in. I feel my eyelids begin to droop, the warmth and comfort of the moment pulling me gently towards sleep.

What’s your favourite moment today? What are you grateful for?

Saturday Morning

Daughter is cuddled next to me in our bed when Son comes in the room, first thing in the morning. The curtains are still drawn, the light muted. Son knows now to whisper whatever he says to us when he comes in, just in case Daughter still needs to sleep. Bless his heart.

Daughter is waking up anyway, so I invite him in, using my normal voice. He climbs onto the bed and stretches out beside Daughter. When I was still pregnant with Daughter, I was worried about bringing a sibling into Son’s life. He seemed so afraid of what would happen and dead-set against the idea of having a sibling. Now, he loves her. He doesn’t always love the attention she grabs away from him, but he loves her.

Daughter smiles at him when she hears his voice and coos to him. She reaches for him, grabbing his face, and he doesn’t even mind. He just giggles and tries to get her to do it again.

Husband comes in and curls up at the bottom of the bed. He jokes with Son and smiles at Daughter. We chat lazily. A perfect Saturday morning.

Quiet Time

Quiet time. Twenty minutes where an increasingly stormy Son stays in his room and I rest; sometimes, if Daughter doesn’t need much.

Today, she needs to nurse, but that’s easy enough. I lie on the bed and pull her close to me. Side-lying nursing, the best kind there is. I prop my head on a pillow and let myself sink into the blue and gold of the bedspread. Daughter’s breath is quick, one hand wrapped around my index finger. Sunlight shines in the window, through the trees.

What’s your favourite moment of the day? What are you grateful for today?

Boom Shake It Up

Son’s preschool is having a Father’s Day concert next week. They’ve been practicing for it every day. There’s one song that Son loves. I can tell because he’s always singing it to himself. So much so that now I know it too, or parts of it.

So, it’s lunch time. Son is at the table and I am making myself a hummus melt. I’m joking around, singing Son’s song to myself, and dancing to it, “Boom shake it up, boom, boom, shake it up.”

Son jumps out of his chair. “No, it goes like this.” He stands and says, “Ready position!”. I look at him in surprise. He’s never shown me all the moves before, only hinted at them, shyly. In one second, he wraps his little arms around his body, rapper-style and bows his head, as though waiting for stage lights to come up. He stifles a giggle. Then, lifting his head,  “Hip, hop, Father’s Day rock, let me see your left foot drop”. He steps once, awkwardly with his left foot. Then, “Hip, hop, Father’s Day rock, let me see your right foot drop.” No movement of the feet. “Boom shake it up, boom, boom shake it up”. Some kind of strange dancing movement that I think is supposed to resemble a shimmy. “Tell your Dad you love him so”, he points.

He’s so serious and so sweet, trying to get the moves just right. Laughter bubbles up inside me, not at him, just at his smallness and his earnestness and at the silliness of the song.

He stops. I start singing it again and he does the whole thing over. I want him to do it again, but I know if I start pressing him, he won’t do it anymore. I guess I’ll just have to wait for next week.

Boom shake it up, boom, boom, shake it up!

Daughter

A cloudy day. The house is quiet. Son is at preschool, Husband is busy, and the house is mostly clean. Daughter is awake and I have just put her on our bed. For once, I have nothing to do but hang out with her.

I lie down beside her and say, “Hi cutie.” She looks at me and her face bursts into a sunshiney smile that lights up the whole room. I’m so in love. I talk and sing to her. She talks to me too and twenty minutes fly by. When it’s time to change her diaper, nurse her, get lunch ready for us all, I feel rested, even though I haven’t slept.

What are you grateful for today?

Respite

Son is in his room, bathed and changed into PJs. Husband watches as Son pushes a red car around the room, pretending he’s Ryder from Paw Patrol, off on a mission with his highly talented pups.

I pass Son’s room and tiptoe into our room next door. Daughter is sleeping in her carrier. I kneel quietly by her swing and take her out of the carrier oh so gently. She tenses momentarily, then relaxes into the seat of the swing and closes her eyes. I exhale. She’s still asleep. Amazing. I quietly push the switch to start the swing. It rocks her gently back and forth.

Feeling lighter, I go to Son’s room and sit behind Husband in the doorway. Here, we are out of the way as “Ryder” zooms past with his car. Soon the play portion of bed-time will be done and I’ll brush Son’s teeth. But not quite yet. “Ryder” needs to finish the mission first. I lean against Husband’s back. His back is solid and warm. The warmth fills me as I breathe him in. I close my eyes and let myself rest.

Afternoon Reading

The sun has popped out from behind the clouds and its light seeps in around the blinds in our living room. Son is laying down on the floor, cuddled up with a pillow. I snuggle myself down beside him; my head on the pillow, feet up on the window seat. I open the manual to Son’s favourite snap circuit set; the one he plays with every single day.

On the page, a cartoon person made out of snap circuit parts waves and explains various aspects of electricity and circuitry. “Read that one, mama”, Son points. I say, “Capacitor. The capacitor stores energy, but unlike a battery…”. Son doesn’t move. He barely breathes. I can almost see his brain soaking up the information. We read on and on and on.

What are you grateful for?

Grandma

My Mom (also known as Grandma) is coming to visit. Son has dragged a small, green, plastic chair up to his room so he can sit by his window to watch for her.

We wait.

Finally, son sees her. I go downstairs to let her in. I can hear Son screaming “Grandma!!” as loud as he possibly can. He sounds like he’s at some kind of preschooler rock concert.

Grandma comes up to our porch, dragging a trolley full of toys for Son to play with today. She sees Son at his window, and her face is shining as brightly as the sunny afternoon. She waves at him. Grandma has arrived.

Cuddle

Son and Daughter are both asleep upstairs. It’s the first time I’ve been able to put Daughter to bed so early in the evening and it feels strange and wonderful to have so much free time.

Husband and I rush to the living room and lie down on the hard floor, our heads sharing a nursing pillow.

This is the first time we’ve had so much time alone together since Daughter was born. We lie on our sides, faces close together, and talk about the day, sharing our stories of Son and Daughter, laughing together.

I am transported to the time before Son and Daughter, when we had endless time for talking and cuddling this way. I only dreamed then of what we have now.

I had almost forgotten what it was like to be just “us two”. The feeling gets diluted with three or four. And I see, maybe for the first time, the strength of our love. This love brought Husband and I together and Daughter and Son into the world. This love holds up our house, and I am reminded to nourish it.

What moment are you most grateful for today?