A Morning

I awake feeling warm from a satisfying, yet dreamless sleep. A little arm is thrown over my side. I can't be sure who it is. I squint without my glasses. The dark before sunrise and my poor eyesight contribute to having to get within four inches of the sleeping child's face to see who it is.  I thought it was my oldest at first. But as I listen to the pattern of breathing I am confident that it is my second child sleeping there.  It strikes me how I can tell who it is by the way they are breathing in their sleep. 

I pad down the hall to my oldest's room. I never know how she will react to being awakened. I try to be very neutral during the wake up. I matter of factly tell her it's time to get up and I will start her bath water for her, so that she can go straight from warm bed to warm bath if she wants. She wakes up with a smile, she doesn't complain about getting out of bed: only says she wants to stretch first.  That makes me smile--I know that feeling. 

But as I try to sneak down the hall to the bathroom, I hear my youngest call out "Mommy! Moooooommmmy!"  I sigh. There's no reason for her to be up this early, but she always calls out the minute she hears the slightest rustling in the house. I float over to her crib and tug her up so that I can hug her. "Hold me, mommy" She says as she nuzzles into my neck. I take her back to my room and settle her next to her sister. 

I go in to start the bath water. As I sit on the edge of the tub I think about what I need to do today: Two of the girls need new winter coats and one needs shoes. I could use both.  I frown because the mortgage check will clear this week. I try to figure out if I have enough of a cushion to get those things today when I go out. I hate to think about money.  I don't like to talk about money with Jim--but of course--it's a topic that you have to discuss with your spouse every now and again. We always seem to have enough (money, I mean)--even though my husband says I always act like we don't. I know that we do; I just don't enjoy spending money. It makes me nervous. I guess I have a weird relationship with money, since money is for spending and I prefer not to spend it. I start to think of the conversation we had yesterday. And then something else strikes me about trusting God--something I talked about only yesterday as well. I do trust Him immensely. But I could stand to let go a little more. Yesterday, I was thinking about winter coats, shoes, Halloween costumes, an impending cable rate hike, weekend plans; and I always get nervous the week that the mortgage check clears, even though the money has always been there.  Even though I know that I am blessed beyond reason and He always provides.  I resolve to check the balance on the checking account later and push unwelcome thoughts of money from my head. 

As the tub fills, I crawl back into bed and listen to Chloe talk her older sister awake. The next thing I know she turns on the bedside lamps shouting "The moon!" at perfect circles cast on the ceiling above. After a few shadow puppets I roll out of bed again with sleepy heads toddling behind me.

Talk of today's weather. Fashion advice. Paying the girls some compliments. Reminding them to brush their teeth. Packing lunches. These things fill up the rest of the morning rush. I look out the kitchen window. The sun is shining white light today through the trees. I think of lemons. Even though the light is paler than that. It feels later in the morning than it is. A bell begins to ring. 

It's time to skip to the bus stop. Olivia isn't awake. I forgot that she likes to sleep in. It's a mad rush to get her up and bundled for the briskness of our short morning walk to the corner. The dog is crated in Ava's room. I undo the latch and watch him slowly get up.  He's almost five. I still think of him as a puppy. He looks like an old man standing up. I notice that he didn't eat his dinner. But he shoots past me and down the steps before my mind settles into a train of thought about getting older. He's only "almost five". 

Short commands: Shoes on. Coat on. Get down stairs. Move. Don't run. We arrive at the same time the bus does. Kisses. Wave goodbye. Their day officially begins. 

And I begin to think about what to write today. I read an article about Americans identifying less and less with organized religion. I wonder if I should weigh in. I hear about a drive-by shooting near my old neighborhood. What do I say about that?  A similar feeling to the one that I had earlier, when I sat at the edge of the tub, settles into my stomach. Maybe something wordless for the blog. I think about a picture I shared on my Facebook page. My attempt to "Stay in the Picture." 

But I have lots of words that want to come out today.

Sometimes I sit down with a plan. Today I didn't. It's just me. My thoughts. My morning. There's no point I want to make. I just want to write. Thanks for reading. 

Linking up again this week with Shell at Pour Your Hear Out.