Thursday, May 30, 2013

One morning at my house.

6:00 a.m.


From my bed where I lay, I can hear Lucy calling in a drawn out-yet not too loud way.


Tad unwraps himself from me and goes upstairs.  I hear him go up. He is upstairs IN Lucy's room.  But then I hear her again.


He comes back down and wraps himself around me again.  "Sorry. She's been calling you like that for a while now."
"But didn't you just go in her room?"
"Yeah. She just ignored me and kept on calling you."


I go upstairs and find my little wriggling girl wide awake in her bed.  Smiling. 

"When will it be morning?"  She asks me, despite the sun streaming in through her windows.
"It is morning."
I lay out her clothes for her.  I go in Coen's room and wake him up.  Lucy follows me and sits cross-legged on the floor, watching me wake him, as if it's a show. sort of is.  He is very slow to open his eyes and when he finally does, says "Mama?" three times, but never finishes his thought.

A bit later, when I'm downstairs getting breakfast ready, Coen comes in the kitchen with a notebook.
"Mama! Look what I made!"
He opens it up and reads through recipes he's written himself, telling me he wants to test them in our kitchen soon.
Coen's Chicken
Coen's fruit smoothie
Coen's dipping sauce
Pretty cool.

Then Lucy comes down with her button down dress hanging wide open.  She gestures to her self, squeaking.  I start to button her up and then she wildly wriggles out of her dress and puts it on backwards.
"That's backwards, honey."
"This is how I want to WEAR it."
She dramatically takes it all the way off and looks at me.  Humphs.
So I button her dress in the back with the collar in front. 
"Which way do you want the sash tied?" I ask her.
She starts flailing around inside of her dress, sticking her arms out of the spaces between the buttons, unbuttons the dress and then throws it on the floor.
"I don't WANT to wear this dress at ALL!" She says and flounces upstairs to get another.

After breakfast (uneventful) I kiss everyone goodbye.  Coen runs into the playroom.
"Mama!" he shouts from there.
I go in. "Yes?"
"What kind of music should I play?" He asks me, seated at the piano.
"How about leaving music. I'm going to work now." I give him a kiss.
"No, do you want breakfast music or dinner music?"
"Oh. Breakfast."
And so he plays "breakfast music" and I leave the house to the sound of it and head off to work.

I love the sound of my kids saying "Mama." And sometimes I can't stand the sound of my kids saying "Mama."  But they are both, in their own ways, wonderfully weird and incredible children.  And I am so glad I AM their Mama.

And that's just one morning at my house.

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