bedtime

I love my life. It's quirky, sad, hilarious, intense, simple, complicated, and full of blessings. All wrapped up in God's humor.

Bedtime is in full swing here. Emily (who has a cold) is sad because "daddy hurt her feelings" when he told her it was time for nigh' night prayer the minutes ago, so she's sobbing, and Adam is bouncing on the bed. I'm sitting in the living room while their I-love-them-too-much-to-discipline-them daddy "deals with it". I'm doing biiiiiiig faaaaat air quotes on that "deals with it" right there, cuz God knows I'm the one who's dealing with it from half way across the house. and Tim? He says NOTHING to them, even though he's literally laying in bed with them. Some might say it's because I'm too over powering in my parenting approach. I'm intense, I know that. But you know what I say? Those people have never had an exhausted husband "help" with bedtime. The rest of us know he isn't saying anything because (are you ready this?) HE'S SLEEPING. (cue the laughter from the live studio audience, because I think I just saw this last week on an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond). Yeah, I'm irritated. But I'm not mad.

Emily is whimpering and blowing her nose like any three year old (loads of snot all over her nose, in her hair, eyes, eyebrows, across her cheeks and forehead, between her fingers, and some on the tissue) and Adam is doing a handstand against the wall.

{{Y'all gon' make me lose my mind, up in here, in here.}}

Now I'm washing Emily and scolding Adam, and reminding myself that these are the easy years. My kids are so sweet and silly, and any parent who's lost a child too soon would do anything to have this moment I've been given. I'm going insane, but I have all my babies. I do NOT take that for granted.

And I'm actually thinking, "Poor Tim. He's missing it."