We have to leave for school in about twenty minutes -- this is our morning lull that we have every day, and yet still somehow our departure clamors with get-your-shoes-on-NOW, and we arrive without time to spare. I am working on that.
A tiny chickadee is nibbling at the feeder at the window. He's small enough to nest in my hand. The morning is sunny and cool -- still and crystal clear, the sun against smooth trunks of trees.
Last week we seemed to have crossed a bridge, or at least the kids did. After bringing his blankie to school for two days, Silas stopped tucking it in his bag, and there have been no more morning tears, not even on Monday. Relief.
Eden learned to swim in the last two weeks with Ben and has proved to be fearless, wide-eyed and smiling, even under water. I tense and become frantic every time she treads her little way to the wall -- the ferocity of mother instinct is almost psycho. Ben's been pretty patient.
As I sit here, wishing for a cup of coffee, the kids are playing downstairs and have been for nearly an hour. It's as if they've craved each other's company in the midst of all this transition.
The list of paperwork to-do's in my notebook for the house is getting a little long... Today we'll go visit the walls and rooms again, and for the first time, really, I will try to envision our furniture and family living there.
It is now shoe-putting-on minute, so off we go to usher in another day -- they keep coming. I'm already twenty weeks pregnant as of Tuesday, halfway there, and had my ultrasound yesterday. At one angle, for just a moment, we could see a face that looked like a little baby's face with Silas's nose opening and closing her mouth.