Happy Chaos

Today was such a good day. I had a tough week, feeling sad after the death of a long-time coworker and friend, worried for the health of another long-time coworker and friend, remembering the devastating anniversary of Julia going into the hospital 2 years ago, and then all the trivial things that shouldn't matter but do: colds that keep coming and coming, boys that butt heads like loud little billy goats as soon we get home every afternoon, and the constant, constant demands on my time and patience.

And then today happened.

The mad rush to get both boys off to school was relatively peaceful. Tillie and I got to walk with Carrie in the beautiful autumn morning. I worked for an hour while the little one snoozed, and even remembered to feed myself lunch before she woke up. Off to pick up the boys, playtime at the park and then home... and the billy goats were nowhere to be seen. Instead, two boys unloaded and put away all the groceries while their sister cooed and kicked on the floor, watching them. I unloaded the car. Finn zoomed around the house with a sword defending us from imaginary foes while I nursed on the couch and Oliver snuggled next to me and knit three rows completely on his own. "I love this," I told him, and he answered "I love it too." Then we made chocolate chip cookies and nobody cried except Tillie, who fussed herself to sleep in the wrap on my chest, and the boys did dot-to-dots while the cookies baked. Alonso came home and held Tillie while Finn took a bath and I made dinner and Oliver delivered cookies to our neighbor. At dinner everyone ate and no-one dumped their water or threw any food on the floor or declared anything disgusting. Both boys tried arugula and couldn't believe I was eating it by choice. Tillie lay beside my on the floor while I did yoga and she practiced rolling over. Finn joined me for some twists and draped himself across me. "I love you, Mama" he kept saying. Everyone got ready for bed without protest. "This has been such a nice day," I told Oliver. "Why do you think it has been so nice?" "I don't know," he answered. "Maybe it's because I sat next to you to knit. You should have me do that every time I need to calm down. I wish I could knit myself to sleep." And then they read and went to sleep (without knitting) while I lay in the dark and nursed Tillie down for the night.

Tomorrow it will start again, and maybe the peacefulness will last, or maybe the day will start with protests and tears. Either way, we'll have cookies, and a big pile of books from the library to read, a hike with friends, meals to cook and laundry to wash (always). And no matter what, another chance to find each other in laughter and love.