december 2nd, 2013

sitting here, my bare feet grounded by the cool wood floor, spicy elderberry syrup simmering on the stove, snow falling purposefully outside, a basket of diapers waiting to be folded, and all three of my children napping -- i feel certain at this moment, though i sometimes feel differently, i have the best job in the world.

we spooned spiced pumpkin puree and crunchy granola over creamy yogurt into our mouths at breakfast. they with their twin cups of peppermint tea, me with my cup of coffee, coffee ground by my kindergartener at school.

the neighbor girl tumbled through our door and played, was welcomed by warmth. we layered our fleece and woolens and frolicked around the willow tree, laughing. they flung leaves on their heads like confetti. we came in cheeks rosy, hands cold, ready to prepare lunch.

he set in front of the tap on his stool rinsing carrots, potatoes, lentil. she with two aprons, one for the front of her, one for the back, made little chops in the carrots and potatoes. they didn't want to stop helping once the soup was on, so he "washed" dishes in soapy water. she scooped granola into a jar, wiped the table, and swept.

with our homey bowls of lentil soup and our glasses of water, we shared the meal. with cardigan sleeves soaking from dishwashing, he clambered into my lap for aesop's fables before naptime where he wanted each blanket placed on him in specific order.

she and i sat side by side on the couch to enjoy on the banks of plum creek, then she lay down beneath two throw blankets and rests there now.

this, with all the fighting and yelling, and poopy underwear, and disobedience mixed in, this is richness.