thursday evening is our chronically lonely night; the night daddy works late (often times there are others, but thursday is consistent), and the kids and I try hard to shake off melancholy in the quiet dark of the waning hours. i leave on friday mornings right about 6 and drag myself home usually before 9 pm. thursdays my heart is well aware i won't get a good moment with my husband till saturday morning when either Judah wakes us starving to death for pancakes, or my alarm, set for This Old House, rings lazy at 9 am. the latter never happens cause Judah's up with the roosters, but its A-okay. i know I'll miss his crazy sleep patterns all too soon.
vacuuming up the days' dirt from these white-ish carpets i've cursed every live long day, i smiled, a real one, to think of these things that brought me deep joy today:
- baby's legs kicking with excitement, drawing panting breaths through crinkled nose. oh yes, and the way she smiles, beaming through a closed mouth grin. she melts us, all dimpled chin and dimpled cheek.
- judah's speech, juicy and with a lisp; the way he rolls his tounge out of his mouth over-exaggerating each and every 'L'.
- isabelle's knobby knees between stick-like legs, the way she smiles through gaping hole.
- the way I woke aron from a power nap, "Hun, its 6:13; you've got practice." groggy eyed and with a startle, "oh! i was writing a song in my sleep." i laugh. "no, it had a really good melody." he sings it and i wonder. in my wide awake, i can't write a song to save my life. and you, you write in your unconscience.
i pause between tidying up and tucking in to write down what my brain will soon forget.