i mopped the kitchen floor, not that you can tell, but it was clean for like a minute. I nursed my baby . Rocked, swaddled, and sang lullabies. I read stories, more than i could count, and i can count pretty high. I pushed my over reacting helicopter parent down when my babies got hurt and then taught instead how to breath deep and move on. I cut grapes in half. Pushed a double wide stroller. Cooed at a friends baby. Cleaned a different friends bathroom.
(i haven't showered since Tuesday)
I played make believe school with my toddler - she packed my knapsack full of books and play food and sat in the corner pretending to know how to read. She asked me to join her for the school lunch she packed, and it was my pleasure. I took my children to the park. Pushed them both in the swing and went 'round on that thing that makes all children merry.
(I ate lunch standing)
I vacuumed the living room. Tripped over toys. Picked them up, and turned around and picked them up again. I helped Winnie paint with sticks and canvas. Reminded Penny that rocks are still not for eating. I grasped to my patience as one toddler wanted to walk on her knees up the stairs, and it took forever. I spent the day with 17+ pounds of babe on my hip.
(i day dreamed of not having plum colored shadows under my eyes)
I so often am called mama, and believe me it's an honor, but more than that i am a woman. And it's high time i remembered it. Tomorrow is my birthday, my quarter of a century mark, and i want nothing more than to go the art museum (without my children...) with shaved legs and deodorant on.
*photos from our picnic on the Skidmore Bluffs.