This year I woke up with a heavy weight pressing down on me. Anna had crawled into bed at some point in the pre-dawn hours and was curled up, for whatever bizarre reason, between my neck and shoulder- or at least, trying to curl up there. She doesn't so much fit in small spaces anymore, but she has the soul of a circus gymnast and will ever try to fold herself into itty bitty spaces.
I was not annoyed at this early morning visitor. I was, in fact, delighted. Last year, I was afraid of losing my children, not to mention myself. This year, my children were so close that we actually occupied the same space at times, a physical impossibility for most of the rest of the universe. Anna and I snuck away from an as yet unconscious Kurt, rescued a delighted Silvia from her crib and hopped downstairs for a satisfying hot chocolate and coffee (I'll let you figure out who drank what).
Then, we turned up the music and danced. All around, three girls in pajamas, three girls with no rhythm, no smooth moves and absolutely no inhibitions. In terms of birthday mornings, this one pretty much blew the rest away off the edges of the known world. Add to that the french toast Kurt cooked up soon after and there are now no better days left in time or space.
It sounds cliche, I suppose, to get all mushy over a dance break with kids and breakfast a la I-didn't-have-to-cook-it, but the whole day my memories of last year lingered in mute comparison. I don't mean that in a morbid, depressing sense. Quite the opposite. As Seneca said, "We become wiser by adversity; prosperity destroys our appreciation of the right".
Appreciation is really the only word that fits this year. My children are healthy and LOUD and with me, my husband lavishes me with french toast, firm belief and furniture (more on THE DESK later), my family gifts me with time to myself and no question as to my sanity (unless it applies to my obsession with THE DESK). None of these blessings are offered out of worry, fear or judgement, not anymore. I've reached ground where I can stand on my own. I'm no longer stamped, "Fragile, handle with care".
This year I received at least 32 things for my birthday:
1-31: everything and everyone I almost lost, and dance FEVAAAH to boot.
32: A desk (DESK!!!!!)
(hey, at least I didn't put the desk as #1, right?)
(And forgive the spacing here, for some reason beyond my reach I cannot get blogger to seperate paragraphs today.)