I came home to quite a scene on Tuesday. It was my lunch break. I was ravenous. I had forgotten how hard my job is, how hungry inquiring children make me, how to multi-task. I just wanted to sit down, have a turkey meltie, and chill. As I walked around the corner, I remembered. There were four almost eighteen month olds wrecking havoc in my casita. And even though I knew I probably wouldn't eat in a serene environment, I walked a little bit faster because I knew it would be a heartbreaking hoot of a time.
The floor, pretty much from the kitchen to Elie's bedroom, was covered with books, toys, crayons, random kitchen items, old pieces of mail, soymilk cartons pulled from the recycling, anything that those little loonies could get their hands on. They were yapping, toddling, meddling. When I tried to go pee, I was interrupted by not just my own daughter's untimely entrance into the bathroom, but Moana and Jiah's as well. Soraya gave me a bit more personal space, thank the good lord, because my bathroom is teeny.
But it was damn funny. Really beautiful. These four tremendous little beings. I remember all the conversations I had with their mommies before they came along. The way we talked about the symptoms of pregnancy. Baby names. The excitement and drama and discomfort and unknown. The long walks, coffee dates, baby showers. I love these women so very much. And I see their beauteous babies and my heart floods almost as much as it does when I see my pea.
Who could ask for a better way to spend a lunch break?
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