I had a day. A bad day. I'm not proud of it, but I think I got it all out of me. No more being angry. Anger, I learned long ago, is never what someone is really feeling. Of course, it takes a bit of perspective to understand what's underneath the anger. And anger is a volatile, real feeling. Sometimes, we feel angry, but it is always a mask for something else. This took me a bit of time to remember, but I have got it figured out now. I offered my apologies, they were accepted, and I have left them behind. What else is there to do after an apology?
This little lady of mine. She is growing so big, so fast. I admit, I have been complaining about the long nights she has been treating me to lately. Little lady's been learning where her hands are and how to roll over, so she wakes herself every few hours at night trying to figure it all out. Mama's tired and weary. When my eyes are red-rimmed with exhaustion at 4am, and I'm feeding her back to sleep for the third time that night, I smile to her as she drifts back off to the land of nod. My last baby.
No longer a newborn, Summer has found her feet, can squirm her way back and forth on her mat, and waits until her sisters are otherwise occupied before unleashing full soliloquies of baby babble. She is very ticklish around her chest and armpits, and loves when anyone holds her.
Our house is so alive. Even when the kids are sleeping, I can feel their residual energy floating about. There are leftover stickers on the walls, sippy cups hiding under chairs, little socks left on the stairs. I might shush them a little too often, and caution them from running too fast into wall corners, but I am so, so happy this house is full of little girls.
And this dog. I curse her all day long and lament the dirt she tracks in, but her simple-minded nature makes me laugh at least twice a day.
|It's a cat door, Skylar.|