Memories of slumbers past

I remember when I used to love my bed. Dan and I bought it when we moved in together and at the time it seemed so luxurious, so big, so cozy. We picked out the queen-sized double-pillow-top mattress and box spring together, taking our time to choose the perfect set. We invested in the extra mattress pad and Dan bought us super soft new sheets. It was our martial bed and we spent many happy hours together enjoying its comfort.

If the tone of that previous paragraph is a tad nostalgic it is because lately I have been feeling wistful for those days. Because while that very bed is still in our room and still covered with those sheets, it has lost its proverbial shine. We got married. We got bigger. We had children. And now our precious island of sanity becomes a mini refugee camp in the wee hours of every morning. Two adults, two children and usually a cat, snoring, sucking thumbs, purring. When Rachel feels crowded she announces that she's "too tight" and flips over, placing her feet in our faces. Anna's elbows happen to be the approximate sharpness of a carving knife and she is not afraid to use them to get a little space. And for some reason I am often the only resident of this odd nest who finds the environment a difficult one in which to sleep.

Luckily the children don't start arriving until after midnight - usually around 3 am - so I have a few hours to enjoy the bed every night and reminisce about the old days. And fantasize about a king sized mattress.

The title of Rachel's future autobiography

Rachel just announced, "I'm beautiful because I'm bad."

Four

I find myself completely stunned to be the mother of a four-year-old. It's been four whole years since I closed my eyes in that operating room and listened in an exhausted semi-conscious state for my baby's cry. Four years since I first heard the whinnying cry I compared to a baby piglet.

Last night Dan and I were looking at pictures of little baby Anna, reminiscing about her bald head and serious face and curious eyes. Remembering what a total nightmare she was to feed those first few months and how surprised we were that two dark-haired, dark-eyed parents produced this incredible blue-eyed, redheaded porcelain doll.

Needless to say, the surprises haven't stopped. Every single day this exquisite, infinitely complicated creature makes me pause, blink, take a breath, smile. Anna likes to ask me why I was given two girls. And my answer is that I got the children I was supposed to have.

Indeed.


Happy birthday Muffin.