a little girl, eager and helpful and ready to play
the delicious smell of chicken stock cooking all day long
a boy who loves his dad and his brother and maybe his sister and mother too
a baby who loves to do tricks on command
three new mouths to feed, just outside our door
The weather's been dodgy lately (continuious threats of rain and thunderstorms), and Peter's allergies have blossomed into an awesome sinus/ear/bronchial thing, so we've had some seriously quiet days this week.
In some ways, the quiet days are the hardest, as it really forces me to face my inner mothering faults in ways that an outing to the museum or the playground doesn't. I'm never thinking about tackling a project while pushing the kids on the swings, for example.
This weekend promises to be an improvement weather-wise, and I'm hoping Peter-wise, too. He's so sad when he's sick, even though he pushes through so much of his under-the-weatherness. His kryptonite is his father, though, and the minute Kevin's around, Peter melts and just wants Kevin to hold him and make him feel better.
I told Kevin that it's as if Peter wants him to be magic, as if Kevin could just presto! make everything better. As parents we can do that magic trick so often that I can understand why the children believe we can make everything that's sad or scary or painful go away. Unfortunately, not all of life's unpleasantness can be kissed away or tickled out or solved with a well-timed book.
(But most can.)
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