wanting to remember an ordinary day


her slapdash bodily movements land her on the couch, waiting for me.

i really liked my day today.

it started with a tired mama and then a tired dad who woke up two tired children and then we drove in such a tired way to drop off the older tired child at school.  but there, we all watched as she was given her "student of the week" certificate at weekly all-school assembly.  and even though she decided not to stand up in front with the others from her school, I got a picture of her holding onto it afterwards.  and later, she nearly quoted what her teacher had written on the certificate when her dad asked about it in the evening.  she was recognized for all of the progress she's made in every area of learning and how kind she is.   "You are a star, Sophia," read one part.

and while big was at school, little and i stayed home today where i wiped her boogery nose countless times and we played all of her creative, made-up-on-the-spot games which mostly involved me chasing and tickling her.  she spares no energy even when she needs it to get well.  

that game where she runs behind me, crams her tiny hands into my back pockets and starts to swing from them while i turn around and pretend i can't see her.  then off she dashes once she's decided that i had indeed "found" her.  laughing with each run/bouncy jog, knowing that the tickle shenanigans will commence once the mama captures her on the "castle"-couch.  and it's all too amazingly fun to not take part in.  her slapdash bodily movements land her on the couch, waiting for me.  her face buried in the brown fabric.  expectant.

between playing together with her tiny ariel and rapunzel dolls in the maid's room, and fixing a well-balanced toddler lunch of macaroni and cheese, i wash a few dishes and vacuum a few carpets.  we read a book about children's prayers and then a book about the gruffalo's child while she leans against my chest and her breathing slows, concentrating on her mommy's firm, soothing words.

i smell her hair and i kiss the crown of her head.

we rock in her darkened room.  her eye lids are heavy and invite me to sing a song of my choosing, instead of her usual boisterous song requests about mommy and audrey and sissy and tozer and daddy.

   peace and quiet

   peace peace peace...

there is some tidying up.  there are some emails to write.

and then i pick up big while little naps and our neighbors sit in our living room.

the evening goes on by quickly and now i sit here on the verge of falling asleep, thankful for my children.  thankful for a sweet day of play and togetherness with audrey.