It’s two AM and Noelle wanders into our room, mumbling a need to have ice for her owie finger, the result of some three year old dreaming.
I roll out of bed and guide her back to her room, realizing that she’s wet the bed. So I bundle her softly on the couch under a huge fleecy blanket while I strip the wet sheets off and exchange them for new, clean, bright pink bedding.
As I bend down to kiss her face and smooth the covers over her chilly, soft skin she licks my face: “Because I’m your kitty” she says, “and kittys lick.”
I laugh, even though I’m slightly grossed out, and shut off the hall light before crawling back into bed. Somehow smiling in the midst of a 2 AM, pee soaked wake up call.
Suddenly my mind switches on and I wonder why I was able to find joy in the non-ideal.
Then scenes from last night drift back and keep me from sleep. I nagged at Kel for playing on his phone and he reminded me that a whole day cannot be defined by one moment. He encouraged me to remember all the good despite the slip up.
This way of relating is a marriage gold mine if you can dig it and, God I need to dig it. Continue reading →
Some people are crabby, and this lady may win for being the crabbiest (sorry couldn’t help myself)
It’s the weekend, which means that you, like me, may be out and about in a crowd of people. Today I took our two kids as well as our friends son and daughter to the children’s museum about 45 minutes from our house. It’s my daughter’s favorite place on earth and she begs to go there over breakfast nearly every morning.
There is certain worker at this museum who always wears a lemon pucker face and talks to children in such a crabby tone it causes this mom to wonder why on earth she choose to work there. She’s yelled at me for drinking coffee, yelled at my daughter for having 2 too many apples in her pretend grocery story cart and today I saw her scowling as she hung up the little dress up doctor’s coats.
She is a crabby crabby muffin when she’s at work, that much is for sure. I must confess that a lot of times I refer to her as “that pissy lady who works at the museum” but today on the way home I began to wonder about her.
Why would you work at a children’s museum when you seem to have a serious disdain for playing children?