Day 43. 10 small moments

1. She wakes up from the clanging of glasses and dishes being put away. It is an effective alarm clock for the rest of us on a Monday. I carry her down and she curls up on the rug with her lovey and her wild hair. Before I can join her (down there on the nice cozy floor) my middle kid looks for his school uniform with his mouth: “Where?!” …I trudge back up the stairs.

2. After nagging him all morning he still left his informational poster about the platypus in the car. smh.

3. Decorative kale is ornamental and not really all that necessary — and yet it is so reassuring in its heartiness —its ability to withstand all the feels. I think I’m kale in this phase of my life.

4. I haven’t worked from here in a long while. I don’t recognize or know most of these baristas. I’m both thoroughly relieved and sad about that observation.

5. The five of us discuss possible outcomes over lunch. The meeting has an equal amount of my focus as the corn pudding tart served with blueberries. The crust gives into the pressure of my fork… just so...

6. I hear them long before I see them. I could be a parrot chirrup-chirping the exact same phrases from my perch on the landing above them: “wash your hands. eat a healthy snack. chirrup. chirp.”

7. He has taken to the piano after only two lessons. Right when I feel like my windmill is endlessly churning and groaning I’m suddenly surprised by moments of humbling illumination: I am where I am supposed to be.

8. We rush the last fifteen minutes to find all of the soccer stuffs. She wants to copy him (as expected) and puts on her gear as well.

9. Dinner is grilled pork chops and the taste of summer ending.

10. After dinner, and while the kids are busy, we discuss work. It is our favorite thing to talk about besides the kids. I feel restless. restless. restless… but I am where I am supposed to be.