happy day, girls!

This cup is for you, girls. A double dirty mocha chai. That's left over cocoa from yesterday, a jar of zingy chai, that sweet Rachel brought me the other day, and a stiff coffee all simmered gently till they become one with my universe. It's a lovely thing to wake up to. If you were closer, we'd have one together!
 
On Mother's Day Eve, my middle child shot me square between the eyes from the distance of a hundred feet with a nerf bow and arrow. It smarted. (and scared me, more than anything) I came down on him like a Hollywood super hero.

"You don't aim at people!"

"It was an accident." he pleaded.

He was genuinely alarmed and sorry.

But you must have aimed at me, I maintained.

"I didn't, Mom, I'm a lousy aim." he said with tears.

And then I have to laugh, of course.

Because a momma knows when there is no guile.

My relaxation consisted of my six year year old checking my wild, wooly hair for ticks. For real. I had the tickly feeling that they were on me, and I found two myself. I spent a large part of the day trekking through dense vegetation with a sled, hauling earth worm laden compost. Don't ask, but know that I find this sort of thing thrilling.

I closed my eyes and she picked through my hair like a monkey, and the final verdict was....

'Mom, you have flakes, but I don't see any ticks.'
Matt was nearby and checked for gray hairs. That was fun, too.
You weren't thinking that we are civilized over here, were you?

So I took a shower before dinner. Of course the shampoo was missing, so I dragged my wet, naked self out of the shower to scream at anyone who would hear me, to bring me some dang shampoo. Max responded. It was his shampoo, and he was keeping it in his room and it was made for men, not women. Damn Axe and all their stupid ass products. 

Are you shitting me? Bring me some product. NOW! 

He brings it, and I am back in the shower and I hear a commotion. It's not enough to shoot me in the face, please, let me climb through the bathroom window in my muddy sneakers during your bi-monthly relaxing mother's day shower for no good reason whatsoever.

The highlight was dinner.

I looked at Matt in total and utter awe.

"Do you realize that all three of our children fixed their own baked potato and cut their own steak with absolutely no help from us?!"

None.

He was just as amazed as I.
This is staggering. I've been doing just this sort of thing for thirteen years now and, POOF, inside of one meal, it's all over.

That's bittersweet, actually. It goes so fast, this gift we're given. 

The chance to love at mach speed and feel overwhelmed with the pure beauty that is children. 

It's our little secret, isn't it? We moms have it good. 

The fountain of youth isn't at all what people think.

Or is it?

Love to you all.