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.


The light in the kitchen creates a little island in the dark of the evening. Husband and I are sweeping up the crumbs of the day.

Some nights we disappear into our distractions (podcasts, Netflix), but tonight we talk. We mull over Son’s latest behaviour, pick apart routines, sketch out schedules. This leads to more talking which leads to saying things that are hard to say. We are careful with our words and each other. We listen hard. I remember the day I decided to say “yes” to the adventure of a life with Husband. I’m glad to be walking this winding path with him.

What’s the best moment of your day so far?

Family Cuddle

Sunday morning. A cloudy day. The sunlight that is usually shining boldly in our bedroom by now is diffuse. Son tiptoes into our room quietly. He has learned by now not to wake Daughter. But she is up already, chatting to Husband in our bed.

Son clambers up onto the bed next to Daughter, and starts trying to make her laugh.

I sit on the foot of the bed and relish this moment of togetherness. For now, no one needs anything, no one is upset. We’re all here together, content in each other’s company.


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.


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?

Mixed Bag

A tough day today. Son was extra ornery and so was I. I’m so tired! Daughter isn’t sleeping well and so neither am I, of course.

I’m grateful that even though Son and I got mad at each other, we also got past it, and he gave me a rare hug at dinner.

I’m grateful that Husband brought me flowers for Mother’s Day.

I’m grateful for the glorious sunshine and blue, blue sky.

Kim Jong Baby

We are sitting at the table eating lunch. Husband, Son and I are at the table and Daughter is in her bouncy chair.

Daughter’s hair is fine and fluffy, and she has lost some of her hair at the front,  as babies do, so that she is almost bald near her forehead and has longer tuft of hair sticking up on the crown of her head. There is something about the way the light is hitting her hair that makes it stand out. It looks to me like a little cloud or dandelion fuzz floating over her head. She’s looking around in a bright-eyed, cross-eyed, baby way.

I point out the fuzzy hair to Husband, who says, “She looks like Kim Jong-Un.” And – she kind of does, with her hairline, sticking-up hair, chubby cheeks and double chin. Husband laughs hard, and so do I.