9:30 hit tonight and I started getting worried that I wouldn’t get my photo of the day today. How bad would it be to break a resolution that’s only 4 days old? Bad. Sad. Mad.
That’s when Elliott came out of his room with this:
Normally if it’s 9:30 and one of the kids comes rollin’ out for more than a yawny, sleepy-eyed potty break, I go a little T-Rex. (RAAAARRGGH! Why are you out of your room! Get back in there! RAAAARRGH!) 9:30 p.m. is MY time. MINE. As is 8:30 - their bedtime is 7:45. So if I’m still hearing the screeeee of a bedroom door by NINE FRICKIN THIRTY, there had better be blood. Or brains. Or a fever of 104. That’s when I heard Elliott’s door open. Small steps shuffling on the carpet toward my room. Oh no he did NOT.
I had just transformed into T-Rex and was preparing for my initial roar when Elliott flashed me this card he’d been writing. Just like that - eyes peeking over and everything. Aw. Crap. Wither back into mama all mushy at the sweetness. Inky left fingers from copying the title of his current favorite book. Check. Sassy eyebrows both proud of his writing and hopeful that T-Rex is all the way gone. Check.
What can I do but grab the camera (which in four days has barely left my side - I love goals!) and capture this forever and always?
And what can I say about this small son (who at his full hight comes just to my hipbone) that can really tell what it’s like when I look at him? When I feel his lips on my cheek and his Goodnight Mama I Love You and his arms around my neck? What can I say about the rush of tears and the lump in my throat when I think that I’m this kid’s Hero, and that what he wanted was to show me his hard work? All I want in the world is to teach and love and protect, laugh and sing, explain and listen to him. All I want is to help direct the gaze of those bright eyes to the wonder and beauty of the world. To show him how to make his mark with pen and paint and markers and mind. To watch - so closely watch - what he becomes.
I find more meaning in parenthood the more these two personalities reveal themselves - the older they get. Their curiosity and question-asking is endless, and I learn as I Google the answers I don’t have ready. (What did I ever do without Google and Wikipedia? Seriously. Card catalog? Dewey Decimal? No idea.)
So for tonight at least, hearing the dreaded screeee and little feet padding toward my room at 9:30 - not so bad after all. Not so bad.