I meant to get up at 6 this morning, but I didn’t. It was cold and dark, and my bed was warm and soft. Instead, I snuggled down with my babies, and dreamed some…well, truly strange and stressful, though not entirely bad, dreams. I can tell you why I dreamed them; my subconscious was trying to comfort me, in its own weird way. But sometimes it misses the mark.
Later on I was awakened by my son stroking my hair and nuzzling me. I cuddled him to me, and his sister snuggled up against us, and I spent the first half hour of my day that way.
Screw mornings. My kids won’t always want to cuddle with me.
This, too, is one of my themes for the year. Anya starts school again tomorrow, and our lazy lie-ins will be limited until summer. (And with any luck, I’ll have a job again by then, and will be up with the chickens once more.) So I’m not cracking the whip; instead, I’m savoring these days. They will pass too quickly.
This year, we will go on adventures and do projects and eat junk food and laugh a lot. I will take my son on walks, and set him down so he can walk, too. I will paint my daughter’s toenails. I will read them any book they ask, even if they ask seven times in a row. We will bake sugar cookies, and fingerpaint, and plant seeds, and feed birds. We will look. We will wonder. We will say “wow” and “cool” (two of Kai’s most recent word acquisitions) a lot.
We will love. And, with any luck, years from now when they are grown and gone, I will remember.
These are my kinds of dreams.