before this phase fades into another

Sadly I don't have anything to top the previous post's photo display, so I thought I'd be semi- self indulgent tonight and simply write.

Moments ago, I concluded the nightly ritual of tucking my children in bed sans Andrew. On the nights when he's home, bedtime is a family affair. One parent hides (this is a BIG DEAL) with the children under Eliza's covers while the other fetches their comfort items and cups of water before making their way into Eliza's room where GASP!!! ... "Where did Eliza and Henry go?"

***cue incessant giggling from beneath the purple dragonfly bedspread***

Ideally, we're both there to divide the task of changing their clothes, attending to the potty/diaper business and brushing their teeth. Then, it's stories, two songs and a family prayer. We trade off who escorts Henry to his room for a turn in the rocking chair, while the other snuggles Miss Eliza. Lately, that's been me because she's kind of hit a "girls rule, boys drool" phase.

Knowing Andrew would be gone Tuesday and Wednesday night, I decided that to combat my frustration regarding his absence (I know, I sound like a spoiled child), I would simply take my time with them. I was certain that the latest episode of LOST would be the high point of my day, but looking back, it was most certainly the time spent rocking Henry and listening to Eliza's curious and unique to her thoughts.

Henry has wised up and realized that the longer he lets me love on him, the longer Mommy's going to stay put in that rocking chair. However, most nights, there comes a point where the comedian inside him overrules his sweeter nature. He finds great joy in honking my nose and slapping my cheeks, hoping I'll get the hint that he wants me to fill them full of air for his deflating amusement.

Last night was different. He kept petting my hair, calling me "kitty," naming my facial features and whispering, "I WUV YOU, MOM"

Holy ball of melted cheese. I love that kid. I told him, right then that he was so special (he's totally comfortable with a sap-infused Mother).

"Ya Mom" was his whispered reply.

Henry, a.k.a Captain Collision, has entered a phase of premature bravery. Walking down the stairs on his feet is his latest endeavor. At a friend's house Sunday, he attempted to show off his newly developed skill for his friends. However, his love for dress up shoes proved fatal as he took a tumble straight into the banister. His black eye is tough and overshadows the fact that he loves a high heeled shoe and tiara.He's a tease. His favorite target is Eliza. Stealing a favorite stuffed animal from her arms, he bolts into the playroom, chucks it underneath the kid table and continues full speed into the front room giggling at her distress all the way.

"Henry! Tell Eliza you're sorry!" I encourage.

"Sorry, Syszah!" He replies with a smile.

"It's okay, please don't do it again." That is her response to every apology.

Just recently, he's begun using full sentences. They are still intermingled with a boat load of blabber, but I'm not in any rush for that trait to disappear.

And then there's Eliza. What a joy. If your kids interact with her regularly, you may not believe me when I say that she's the family peace maker. She totally is. Her heart is the size of Texas. When Henry's upset, she embarks on an immediate self appointed search to find his blanket. She's the first to diffuse tension, which I'm aware, shouldn't be a child's job. And she's the first to offer me a song and dance when I'm teary.

Reading her brother a story

Last night, she threw up. Throwing up devastates her. She feels shame, despite the fact that I am most compassionate when my children are vomiting. It's my least favorite illness to date... which is NOT an invitation to the universe to send us something terribly nasty to usurp the stomach bug from the throne of disdain... I'm just saying, it's a painful one to watch and scary knowing that most likely, you'll be the one bonding with the toilet when her illness passes.

As I exchanged her soiled bedding for fresh, she planted herself in the corner of her room. She hung her head in sadness and said,

"I'm sorry, Mama. I won't do it again." It broke my heart. I assured her a thousand times that it's okay to be sick and that I felt so so sorry for her (etc.). The good news is, round 2 made it into the barf bowl and the dear child didn't bother to inform me until 8:00 the next morning.

Henry, THANKFULLY, hasn't come down with this batch load of nasty yet. I'd be surprised if he doesn't, but so far, I haven't detected a change in his behavior. Let us cross our fingers. Still, he managed to contribute his fair share this morning when he pooped in the bathtub. Counting our blessings a second time, I'd already washed their hair... still, it was gross. Andrew should have been there. He would have thought it was hilarious.

Our days, lately, have felt challenging but at night during my self appointed, and unfortunately automatic "Mom evaluation," I realize how incredibly blessed I am to find myself in these tricky situations. This past week, I've started asking Eliza at bedtime if she had a grumpy Mom or a happy Mom that day. And you know, that child is honest. Fortunately, she loves me regardless of my short comings, but that question has been etched into my brain. During the day it's helped me out of unpleasant moods.

I love my job. It's exhausting and I fall short, but I go to bed grateful to have another go in the morning.