It has been weeks since I’ve made dinner at home. Stress.
It has gobbled me whole and has yet to release me. I spend most of my “free” time grading, thinking
about what I should be grading or feeling guilty that I’m not grading. The next two weeks will be full of
grading. The end of trimester coupled
with spring conferences have mixed to create the perfect storm, one that I wish
I could just sleep through.
Back to dinner. Sam
and Emily happily played while I cooked.
It was Christmas. Then it was
Papa’s birthday. Then the dollhouse
people were on a trip in a late 80s wood grain paneled minivan, scaling high
mountains of silver stainless steel. (The
dolls from a more recent time had hitched a ride on the back of a GIANT green
John Deere tractor.) Their imaginations
at work. It was awesome to listen to
their stories, much of which I was trying to remember.
Days like today remind me of how grateful and blessed I am
to have a soundtrack of three year olds to listen to while I cook. Our nanny took the kids to visit a new baby
of one of her friend’s daughters. The
mom is so young Emily couldn’t understand who the baby’s mommy was. The baby was unplanned and unwanted, but
hopefully loved. The mom said she wasn’t
due until May, yet he was born on Valentine’s day and over 8 pounds. We are lucky because we were able to have our
two chatterboxes. I didn’t have to wait
for the ultimate gift from a stranger or face heartbreak from a failed
foster-adopt. Some days I forget how
lucky we are.
