The smell of my wife’s perfume upstairs 10 minutes after she has left, wet hair, a true kiss at the door. E crawling about the feet, wanting to be up. N ramming Mommy goodbye, shaking things up.
Up at 5:50, someone has wet the bed. Surprisingly there is no shock to this news, almost no inconvenience. I have crossed some divide somewhere – I have finally immersed completely in parenting.
I have been up for 3 hours and have not yet eaten breakfast. There are too many variables in the schedule this week to keep track in my mind, but each one persistently circles overhead, tempting me to cage them in a neat linear row, but I know better.
Two nights ago sleep came wonderfully, maybe we are over the 6 week illness slump? Last night a harsh reminder of all of the Variables. E up more times than I can count, N up twice: once for potty, once for unknown reasons. M yelling intermittently with her dreams, unable to be stirred from them. Each time I go back to bed I glance at the clock; how much chance left for rest?
Watching the sunrise with L as we wait for the bus. A deep, resilient red as I hold her on my lap. The color lasts only a minute and is gone.
O hands me a little notebook of poems written by our 10 year-old. Have you seen these?
I haven’t and as I read them I cry.
The coffee lifts me, some music. Two kids at home in their jammies. Most of the leaves have fallen in our yard. Maybe we can rake them today. Make some piles that the kids can jump in before they grow up too much. As I grab yogurt for the E I notice that cider has leaked all over the bottom of the fridge. This outlines some of my work for the morning.
