Sunday, November 9, 2008
It was one of those mornings...
...that reminds you why you married your husband. And chose to procreate with him. Twice (and maybe, someday, thrice).
We woke this morning to the household's smallest member tossing her toys from her crib. This is what she does when she wakes up and wants us to as well. Nevermind that it was 6:45 and I'd gone to bed at 1:30 after some fun impromptu wedding planning and, more importantly, scheming to prime the inlaws to agree to impromptu wedding planning, with my brother in law and his fiancee. Nevermind that it was bordering on freezing in our house, and it was almost still dark out. She was awake, and ready for us to be as well. So, we hopped out of bed, full of life, and ran to greet her.
Ok, no, we did not. Rather, I held so still I was almost comotose, in hopes my husband would think I was still asleep and would decide to go get her up. But we must have been fated to be together, because my husband did the same thing. Eventually, I opted for a dramatic roll over and "Urrrrrgh.", grumbling sleepily about how my belly was hurting (semi-truth). And my husband responded by throwing the blanket over his head and burrowing into the pillow pile, reminding me he'd gotten her up on Saturday. Rather than being defeated so easily, I said, "But I'm preeeeeeeegnant!". Yup, a finer moment for me for sure.
He gave in, by inches, and retrieved her from her crib, bringing her and depositing her on the bed on top of said hurting belly. And she spent the next 12 minutes babbling and circling the room, climbing on the bed and off, hugging Ruby repeatedly, throwing empty waterbottles, and trying to steal my chapstick from my nightstand. The final straw that forced me out of my blankie cacoon was when she saw the picture of Darrick from our wedding, sitting on the nightstand in a silver frame. Excited, she shrieked, "DADA!", picked the picture up, and hurled it at my ribcage.
I threw on a sweatshirt and re-rolled the toilet paper roll Luca had stretched from the bathroom into the hall and to New Mexico, then lifted her in her fuzzy jammies and took her downstairs. I was planning on being merciful and letting Darrick sleep in, but Luca had other plans and promptly climbed back up the stairs and started to harass him. I can only hope a 5x7 of me in a white gown and veil was not his wake-up call.
I threw open the blinds and noticed that the day was overcast, and my mood improved. I know, I know, people from Seattle to Boston to London are shaking their heads (or, would be if they read this), but an overcast fall day was just what I needed. I lit my fall candle, put Lu in a clean diaper and gave her some water, and set about making breakfast. Darrick came down, all cute in his shorts and sweatshirt and fuzzy face, and turned the radio onto Sunday Morning Service (live and acoustic music...we listen to it every Sunday). Twenty minutes later, we were dining on omelettes and drinking hot coffee, watching Luca peel the sharp cheddar off the egg, putting the egg in a pile to the side, and asking for more cheese.
As soon as we were done with breakfast, I cleaned up while Luca and Darrick went outside to check out the weather. I snuck a peek out the window to see them looking at our baby Ash tree and whispering. Her little arm was tucked around his, her hand hidden between his body and his bicep for warmth, and he leaned in and kissed her blonde hair, and I melted into the Earth. Watching them together, and seeing Luca run around and put gravel in a bucket and then chase down the football and squeal with delight when Ruby went outside was heaven.
I can forget, sometimes, how lucky we are to have this life, how lucky I am to have these people. But this day, this overcast fall morning full of warm coffee and hugs and baby kisses and green grass and gravel and baby trees growing strong and backyard swings brought me right back to center. I love that sweet husband of mine, and that sweet baby Luca. And I cannot wait to fall in love again, with not only the next baby growing in my belly, but with my husband, who never fails to amaze me with how, well, amazing he is.