scenes from a saturday.

i sleep in with the babies.  he makes pancakes.  they all

take turns coming to visit us.  mom, are you getting up?  mom, which baby

is awake?  mom, can i change their diapers?  mom, can i bring you coffee?

mom, are you ever getting up?! 

around 9am i plod downstairs with the twins in tow.  i look at pictures that

have been created, marvel over lego masterpieces & dispel an argument.

 we sound out words that they want to add to pictures and laugh at some

non-sense story by clayton that inevitably involves his special booty shake.

  

i'm so thankful it's december--when i know we aren't doing house showings anymore

for our business.  yet, i'm so used to the tidiness, that it's hard to let it go.  i vacillate

between embracing their helpfulness in the kitchen and shooing them away for a bit.

the babies drift off to their goodnight playlist--a mix of things from old hymns

to lisa loeb's children's album.  

 they come and go through this central part of the house and i know where each

one is at any certain time.  ellie and jude playing legos.  chloe and anika walk

through with a CD player and microphone heading upstairs.  nico draws on the

screen porch normally, but has found a new, warmer spot.  clay is hanging with

dad.  bianca sticks pretty close--asking to play on my phone or help do whatever

i'm doing.  so, we go through side by side and do life.

 

i'm surprised by it all still.  the normalcy of life and the enormity of it

all at the same time.  i step back sometimes and see us all here together--

doing our own things and strung together with love.  

we've had bigger dreams, but what is bigger than this?

i'm realizing that maybe they weren't bigger, just different.

and i'm really, really okay with different.

                                                                                                                                      just write