Monday, February 4, 2013


I have just single-handedly saved my family from certain doom and it's not even seven in the morning. I'm feeling pretty good about productivity for the day, and I have yet to open my eyes.

As if on cue, reality, a forty-five pound boy who also happens to be in desperate need of a hair cut, pounces.

His impact catches all of us off guard — even him.

He apologizes in a husky little-boy voice that I find too cute for description.

"Ooops. Sorry Mom, but I just HAD to cuwdle."

With the flat of my hand, I push the hair out of his Cadbury eyes so that I can see him.

Clearly, all is forgiven.

Dad has rolled back over and is not snoring in that totally snoring kind of way and I'm wedged between the two of them, enjoying the warmth.

The boy and I are sharing dreams now, and from the sound of things Super-Hero runs deep in our family. But even Super-Heroes need breakfast; we dare each other to brave that first step. I have the advantage of position and give him a nudge.

It's the middle of the week, our day off, and we are surrounded by our children.

After knowing chaos for so long, the pendulum is swinging back to ordinary, and I am aware of how blessed I am for that.

With both hands and heaving strength, it’s my little boy who pulls back the weighted comfort of  my blankets so that I can do the next thing.

"Come on MOM."

I consider that maybe the stripping away that has been done the past four years has been a heavenly nudging, and that in the end it has given us the advantage of position.

The things that we have lost have hurt, but I know the true value of the things that remain.

Temporal discomfort makes way for new foundations and I'm happy to keep talking dreams.

This post is linked to The Extraordinary's free-write exercise, Just Write.

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