the three of us

Our foursome is missing a vital member. Jeff's away for work until Wednesday and I'm trying hard to get good good at going it alone. This weekend was way better than last, when he was away also. I made the brilliant choice to listen to my children's requests and not leave the house yesterday, except to explore the newly fallen snow in our backyard.


My kids. They are so very content these days in the simple company of one another. Sol points to the radio and calls out his favorite tune to start the day with dancing. Eliana fashions capes and costumes for them while they hold hands and make wonky circles around the tiny dance floor. They pull cushions from the sofa and make obstacle courses and crash landing pads. They fashion drums from lunch boxes and kitchen ware and then play their favorite jams. I think about yesterday and imagine what we did to fill a whole entire day in our little home? I keep seeing the same images. The dancing, the pillows. What else? The books! Yes, the books. Lots and lots of time is spent with books. And now Els has most of Soli's memorized, so she does the reading. It's pretty awesome.


So after a full and busy work day, I returned home with my chickens and they started the routine. The music. The cushions. The inability to sit for any amount of time to actually consume a meal (Sol actually poured a bowl of juicy, tomoato-y spaghetti on his head like something out of a bad comedy...).


Even if they won't eat enough, they always leave me with plenty to clean. But I tried to keep my cool and just be. I ate while they jumped off the coffee table onto Lucy's disgusting dog bed, head first. I tried not to get too uptight. I took it easy, took care of my needs, rolled with their requests. Played Sol's favorite Michael Franti song again and again and again. Engaged Eliana and her endless games, the imagination run wild and amok. Races and hide and go seek and dress-up and Jasmine and Queenie McBear. Tried to watch enough to keep them safe without totally squelching their agenda.


We got through bath (my second attempt at dinner, Sol's bowl of yogurt and cottage cheese with rainbow sprinkles was promptly poured all over me to which Eliana frankly stated, Mina! What are we going to do with you? I never did that, did I Mama?) and then tried to get everyone dressed for bed. Eliana's taken a liking to choosing her own bed outfits, fashioned out of things she can wear to school the next day. Uber-efficient if you ask me, albeit a bit clashy. Tonight it was purple leopard print fleece pants and a long sleeved rainbow print tee. Whatevs.


So I'm alternating my reading between one of Sol's books and one of El's books. They were pretty hyped up on goofballs and I had to keep reminding them to Simmer Down (when did this signature phrase of my mother's begin to infiltrage my vernacular?) While on a longer book for Elie, Sol would hop off the bed in his sleepy sack and shimmy his way over to his book basket to pull out another book. Except one time he decided to dump his book basket on the floor. And then, before I had time to fully get it, hurl himself head first into the basket. Except, of course, he missed and came flying with an atrocious THUD on to the hardwood floor. Good Jesus.

So there goes the Zen. Sol screams. I begin to pace around frantically, holding him and kissing him while a giant goose egg forms on his head. I raise my voice at Eliana and tell her to pick up all the books from the floor, even though she really has nothing to do with this. I put a frozen piece of ahi on Sol's head which he promptly throws on the floor. Eliana picks it up and tries to bite it, reminding me that I have yet to finish The Cat and the Hat. I jiggle Sol and try to finish the book. I omit some vital couplets. She calls me out and tells me to read the whole page. Ugh.


Now it's lights out. The occasional whimper behind the closed door. I can't bear to face the obliterated kitchen. I just tried to find my slippers on our tiny bathroom floor. They are covered with cottage cheese and rainbow sprinkles. Dora panties, stinky overalls and little legwarmers are strewn about on the damp, dairy-fied floor. My dog continues to lurk right at my heels. When I open up the door for her, she just stares outside. It's freezing. My slippers are sticky. I have belly cramps. I really hope no one reads this because it's going from bittersweet and purposeful to complainy and random.

But I guess my point is, even when all I want is a break from it all, I promptly sit down to write it all down. Because it's all so beautiful. The way they snuggle together in bed. The way Sol tries to sing Baby Beluga along with us. His huge smile when he first put the book basket on his head and wandered around like a little blind bat. The delightful detail I omitted from the initial telling of the story. Because I knew he'd try and hurl his body in. But it was so cute and funny the way he was wandering around with the basket on his head, the way he fashioned his tiny self bum down into the basket. I love his creativity and curiosity. He is so amazingly busy and interested in everything, all the time. So even though I knew somewhere in my heart that all his mania would end up in a goose egg, I didn't want to stop it because I knew how happy he was.

I could leave all the dishes and crawl right in bed. It's eight sixteen. My house is a barrage of board books and tupperware, jackets and pillows.

But they sleep. Those two, wild little creatures. They sleep now. Most likely before morning, one or both of them will awake, once or multiple times. We'll muddle our way through another night. Lucy will whine at my bedside and whack me in the face with her tail. I'll curse under my breath and open the back door. She'll stare for a while before stepping out. And that's just how we roll.

Daddy will be home on Wednesday. I'll have my partner back. My look exchanger. The number of times in an evening we look at each other and shake our heads. Is this for real? Are they really ours? Did we know we could love anything this much? Are you as tired as I am? Do we really have to bend down again to pick more crap up off the floor? Is that Lucy scratching again? Is Sol awake? Are we out of cream? Did you check the mail? Set the alarm? Did you hear him say, Elie? Look at how she kisses his head. And again and again and again. This blessed time. All the details to remember.

And for the record...this picture was taken last week. Now a white dust of snow covers those fallen leaves. We've landed in Winter.