Saturday, January 21, 2017

Journal Entry (Today)

Today is a perfect gift of a day. Last night Mike decided to take all the kids (but Abe – who had various obligations today) to the cabin. I was feeling emotional and teary (as I often am in the evenings since Hansie’s arrival) and wasn’t sure I wanted them to leave, but it has been such a peaceful and quiet little piece of time. Not many days in the past sixteen years have been like it. And I imagine few will be like it again. But today? Just this one day in my life? It’s rushing to it’s end of course, but it has been . . . just right. One of those days that sparkles out from the mix of hours and moments and days and years that make up my life.

Photo Jan 20, 10 54 00 PM

Last night, as Mike left, he instructed Abe (who is now driving) to go off and get us treats at the store. When Abe returned, we both worked happily on various things – he had homework to finish up and I was responding to a few emails. Abe helped me make sure the house was tidy (doing dishes and taking out trash without my even asking). And, because no one else is here, it has stayed tidy (which almost feels miraculously impossible). Then I let him watch Rise of the Planet of the Apes while I snuggled Hans and read and wrote things that I wanted to get down.

This morning Abe had to be up at the school at 7:00 a.m. (He’d volunteered to help run the concessions stand for a volleyball tournament in exchange for having his track shorts paid for by the school. Though who buys concessions at 7:00 a.m. is a question I certainly can’t answer.) He was there ‘til after 11:00. In the mean time I slept in late snuggled next to my little Hans. And when I was tired of sleeping, but not tired of that baby sleeping so soundly next to me, I simply stayed in bed and read my scriptures. Around 10:30 I snuck away from my sleeping baby and actually managed to shower and eat breakfast (and do a little laundry) before he woke.

All the while it snowed and snowed outside – making everything peaceful and white. Abe returned (covered in snow from his short walk between the high school and our house). I changed and fed Hans while we both marvelled at the quiet around here (and at how clean things kept staying). Abe went out to shovel our driveway and Hans fell asleep in his cradle. He hasn’t slept soundly out of my arms since birth so that was a bit miraculous as well! I organized and cleaned a few things – getting kids church clothes out for tomorrow, etc. I even set out outfits for the next week for the younger kids – thinking it might help mornings run more smoothly when Mike is back at work. I made a few beds and mopped the floor. Then I made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. (Which is something I have been doing a lot the past few weeks. Mike jokes about my use of chocolate chips by asking why I bother with the small bits of sticky stuff between the chips.) And Hans slept through it all – which I appreciated (though . . . I kept missing him and going repeatedly back in to check if he was indeed asleep, or . . . if he might be needing his mother).

It is now nearly 4:00. Hans is awake and ready to be snuggled and swaddled – which I will do, having nothing at all else even asking my attention. Abe is folding his laundry and working on a lesson for church tomorrow (and occasionally offering me the last Swedish Fish or chocolate covered pretzel from last night’s treats [as any gentleman would]). Part of me wants to cry a little knowing that I may not have another day to so fully and peacefully enjoy my newborn. Kids will need woken for school, hair will need done, diapers changed, . . . lunch prepared, homework helped with, etc. But, I am trying to simply appreciate that this day has existed in all it’s perfect and complete loveliness!


Marilyn said...

It is a sad fact of human nature (ha ha...I was trying to quote Doctrine and Covenants 121 but can't quite remember the wording) but least with me, it is a sad fact that even in the very moment when I'm experiencing something wonderful, I am thinking about how it's going to be over eventually. It's like, I can't just LIVE that moment. I have to anticipate its end. And I try not to, oh how I try! I have thought and written and worked at living in the moment I'm in. Loving it and appreciating it without shadowing it. But it is still a struggle for me. And maybe that's mortality, that shadow, knowing that all things end and not being able to escape the knowledge of it. BUT--as you have written about so beautifully--I have hope that eternity will show us another way. A way to allow the perfect moments to happen, and be in memory, and still be gloriously before us as well--all at once. I hope so. And if so I know this perfect day will return to you again and again and again. What a gift.

Kara said...

That does sound like a pretty great day. Shoo, darn hormones. Go away and let Nancy enjoy her slice of peace. I think my favourite part was the house staying clean. LOL!!!!

Nancy said...

Yes! I remember you writing about that before! I don't think I've ever struggled with it quite as much as right now! Yesterday was so utterly calm and perfect, but I had to keep fighting off this sad panic that it was rushing by and would end. Over and over reminding myself that at that moment it was lovely and to enjoy it. But sheesh!

Nancy said...

The clean house! Yes! It is the strangest feeling ever to just do nothing for a few hours and have nothing spiral into chaos in the mean time!!

And I know I know! Always the contrast of jumbled up hormones or this or that. Life is an interesting bag of emotions all crowding for space!

The Hamster Master said...

You know, I'm always feeling sad about my kids growing up, and I certainly feel that when I'm around your little kids. But as I was reading this, I thought, "What an incredible thing it is to think that that little baby will someday be a remarkable young man like Abe." Everyone should be lucky enough to have an Abe around.

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