These are the days

I quietly roll over and sneak out of our room carefully avoiding the rolled up blanket taco beside my bed. She slips in each night and settles herself on my sheepskin rug and hard floor. I am undecided as to whether or not to break her of this habit. When I ask her what is scaring her she replies, “I just want to be close to you.” Alas, so I just expect each morning she will be there once again.

These are the days.

I slip down the stairs and steam oat milk and make a cup of coffee to drizzle it over. I sit in silence and feel the warmth of my cup, then I pray, read, journal. I soak up the solitude in the same way I sip my first latte.

These are the days.

With an astonishing “boom, boom, boom” we are aware than one of them is awake. We marvel at how they are so loud when they haven’t even reached 40 lbs yet.

These are the days.

They stumble down the stairs and hope to snuggle up to one of us. They are tiny bodies with huge hair and terrible breath. They burrow in close and ask “what’s for breakfast?”

These are the days.

At 8am, I walk back up the stairs. I open the babies door to the loud roar of her sound machine. She stumbles to her feet and holds the edge of the crib. She happily says “good morning.” And every day I am shocked by her mop of auburn hair. She is another tiny body with big hair ready to greet another day.

These are the days.

There are sweet sister snuggles and sassy sister squabbles. The floor is littered with calico critters. I often here “mom” only to realize they are deep in play land and not calling out to me.

These are the days.

There are times I probe to know more and times I ask them to please stop talking to

me. There are times I miss them and times I just need a break – a moment to gather my thoughts and feelings.

These are the days.

There are read alouds. Sometimes they snuggle and sometimes they squirm. The questions are endless and curiosity ravenous. The little minds like huge sponges.

These are the days.

There is sighs and silence and the clanging of dishes once they are finally in bed. There is my beloved nightly bath accompanied by a good book. There’s requests for cups of water and a collapsing onto the couch. There’s nighttime teas and a sweet satisfaction in knowing –

These are the days.

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