Pink Bandaids

I don't know what it is about this blog that compels me to pour my heart out. Maybe it's the urge to speak with an adult after a long day with babies and no adult interaction. Or maybe it's that I really don't know that people read this blog-only my few proud little friends, so I feel comfortable griping, chatting, telling them my proudest moments. Who knows? Sometimes I can talk for an hour, and sometimes I just sit and think, hmmmm, what shall I say. Sometimes I am a bit embarrassed about the crazy things I say. But I have to tell you that it's really therapeutic. I mean, much better for you than smoking or what have you. It's like a high-tech journal with pics. Cool huh.

That being said, I had a moment last night when I climbed in bed. I always go and check on my two kiddos and make sure they are covered up and all snug in their beds. (Slade being more snug than Finley bc he has better windows!) I went into Slade's room and he was snoring softly and flinched when I covered him. Finley was in her pink candy long sleeve pajamas, all sprawled out in her crib-the crib I cannot bare to pack away. They were sleeping soundly and as I laid down in bed, I thought, WOW, I feel so content with them here under my roof. They are small and innocent-still young enough to think Kyle is Superman. Still little enough to think mom can fix everything. I love that feeling of knowing that they are safely asleep in the house with me, protected from the cold and big bad, failing economy, war-torn world. And for a short time I can protect them from it. For a short time I can tickle their little hearts with a chocolate chip cookie or mini slinky. A fun day to them is to get to go to the park and feed the ducks our left over hamburger buns. I can make Finley squeal with delight if I put a pink bandaid over a "pretend" ouchie. I can win Slade's heart by letting him pick out a $1.50 egg shaped container of silly putty. I actually teared up thinking about them last night-yes, me tearing up-shocking! I decided then and there that nothing else really matters. I've known it for years, but maybe it really sank in last night. I mean, I know how precious life is-I see it every time Kyle looks at them and longs for his parents to see the kids. I know it when I read a blog of a woman with breast cancer and her brand new baby girl. I truly appreciate the little things in life. But as I laid there last night, with my sweet (sometime ornery) son and daughter sleeping away in their beds, I thought to myself -life is good. The new ipod can wait. The bare walls in my room will someday get painted. The car will eventually get cleaned out. The stock market will someday gain back points. Gas prices will rise once again, and then fall. But my kids won't always be this little and this easy to win over. Tomorrow, I will put down that laundry basket and read Finley that book she brings to my chair. Tomorrow, I will stop cutting up salad and lay down on the kitchen tile and put together the United States puzzle with Slade. I am going take a minute to sip tea in a plastic pink cup with Finley as she serves me from her little kitchen. I'm going to suck it up and go to the Corn Maze so I can see the delight on my son's face and the mud on his shoes.

I mean, really, who ever knew a box of pink bandaids would bring me to my knees. And while I'm down on those knees, I'm going to say a little prayer and thank God once again for these two beautiful kids. Target can keep that new ipod.