Taking a Moment

There comes a point each day when I need to just stop and take a moment. This usually occurs between the hours of 3 and 5PM (aka The Waiting For Daddy Zone). The boys are usually tired from all the activities of the day, on their way to getting seriously hungry for dinner regardless of any grapes or banana slices consumed at this juncture, and they are usually running around in circles shouting, yelling or making animal noises NONSTOP because they are just so dang riled up about seeing their Daddy soon. The dog is typically uncooperative as well, but with far more attitude since he is apparently still trying to usurp me as J's wife.

Today, we finished a rather long potty training session in our small bathroom. It was a half hour filled with many questions and a lot of giggling. Questions my eldest child posed ranged from:

"Where did my poop go?"

to the more anatomically advanced musing of:

"Mommy, where is your penis?"

After a delicately phrased answer to the latter question I received a look of genuine pity from my nearly 2 year old. His face distinctly read: poor Mommy, getting fatter every day and to top it all off, she has no penis.

Once we finished potty training, everyone washed their hands and scattered to different areas of the house. The Bear hopped madly down the hall and proclaimed himself to be a bouncing bullfrog. Cubs picked up a plastic wiffle bat and ran for the front room window which affords a view of the street and the first glimpse of Daddy on his bicycle. He likes to bang on the window sill with his baseball bat while waiting for Daddy's bicycle to glide into view.

Crumbs, splatters of juice, books, animal flashcards, phonics games, crayons and matchbox cars littered the floor. Cubs screamed at the top of his lungs with joyful anticipation while the Bear continued to jump loudly up and down the hall while shouting the same phrases over and over in that shrill toddler tone of voice. I tried to sit down but then a certain little someone decided that he'd rather be rocked some more by the sway of my walk and so promptly kicked me in the ribs until I give in, stood up and walked around for him. (Demanding little bugger).

I mentally ticked off the minutes until I heard the side gate swing open and the sound of J's cheerful voice calling out to his sons. I knew that as soon as he walked in the house would erupt into further depths of chaos until he gathered them in his arms and swept them outdoors to play for awhile.

Then I would get to clean the floors, start getting dinner together, prepare the night activity and/or the bathtub for their post dinner hose down. I usually get started the minute the door shuts behind my boys. Today, however, I dropped into the rocking chair and let out a huge breath. I looked around at the disaster zone in my family room. I felt the tension in my back and sides. Then I felt my little one kick me again. I closed my eyes and took a moment to really appreciate the amount of energy it took my kids to destroy everything. The cracker bits, the juice stains on my couch, the endless puzzle pieces. Thank God they are healthy, active and able to make such glorious messes.

I took an extra little moment to think about the length of Cubby's eyelashes. I thought about the last bit of baby chub on the Bear's inner thigh (yum). I thought about that moment today, just before Cubs knocked over his juice and about half an hour after the Bear cried over his misplaced stegosaurus, when both boys sat down in their chairs and chatted over a few books. I watched them quietly for a few minutes before realizing that the Bear was reading to Cubby and teaching him new words. When they were done, Cubby stood up, walked over to the Bear and hugged him. Sigh.

I held onto that moment, thanked God for my kids and our precious life here at the bungalow and walked to the cupboard to binge on some chocolate because lets face it....cute memories only get you so far when you are pregnant, its really the chocolate that keeps you sane.