My dream life


Today started with me realizing that I would again be missing the workout class that I had attempted to start attending four weeks ago. Sick kids, who are still sick after more than four weeks of sickness, means I can’t take them to the (already paid for) childcare.

So I’ve now missed another complete week of working out, which totaled with the other times I missed because of me or the kids or both being sick, means I’ve missed more than 2 whole weeks of the class – that’s right, more than half since it started.

No problem. I’ll just work out to a Pilates video at home. Younger kid is still aslee- – (waking up crying sounds from the other room). 
Well, both kids are awake, but no problem, I’ll do it anyway. “Curious George” for the older one, some cheerios for the younger.

During my workout a leftover bowl of cheerios WITH milk is dumped on my workout mat. Curious George kept stopping and the 3-year-old was very traumatized by this. VERY TRAUMATIZED.

Workout stopped at least 5 times to fix problems.

Then sweet younger baby girl decides Mommy’s lap is a perfect place to sit. WHILE MOMMY IS WORKING OUT.  I’m not gonna lie, working out with a 16-month-old chillin’ on your lap is challenging, I mean, besides the fact that the workout itself is CHALLENGING.

Workout finished and shower desperately needed.

“Knock on the door if you need something, ok, Susannah?”

“OK, Mommy!”

Two minutes into the shower, there is banging on the bathroom door.

“Mommy, I gotta go potty!! I gotta go potty!!”

Dripping wet, shivering in a towel, I wait for 3-year-old to potty.

Butt is wiped and kids sent out so Mommy can finish her shower, which sends the younger one into a torrent of tears. It makes me sad, but, you know, I really should finish my shower.

Finally shower is finished and I open the door to find Little One camped out, waiting anxiously for me, sucking on her pacifier for comfort. She runs to me and clings as if I’ve rescued her from a pit of alligators.

But where is the older one? In the kitchen, on a very precarious-looking stool, “washing dishes” with very cold water. Her shirt is soaked. The clean shirt I just put on her before I got into the shower.

“Subee, are you washing dishes for me?”

“Yeah, I’m washing dishes, Mommy!” She beams the brightest, happiest, “aren’t I such a big helper?” smile ever.

“Ooohh, thank you, baby. Your shirt is all wet.”

“Yeah, it’s all wet. You can get me a dry one. But Mommy, I’m not done YET. You hafta go away for a LITTLE bit till I can finish, ok, Mommy?”

 

And you know what I was thinking?

Well, it’s ok, it’s so nice
Just another day in Paradise
And there’s no place that I’d rather be

Two hearts, one dream
Wouldn’t trade it for anything
And I ask the Lord, every night, for just another day in Paradise.
(Phil Vassar)

 

So here’s the gifts that I counted from that summary of my morning:
1.) Two beautiful girls who love being with their Mommy.
2.) Food! Cheerios, anyways, which is pretty much a staple for the girls.
3.) Netflix for watching Pilates videos – and Curious George.
4.) ComputerS to watch them on! Not just one, but two.
5.) Hot water for a shower!
6.) A SHOWER. Two years ago I couldn’t take a shower in my home.
7.) Pacifier to comfort my sad baby.
8.) 3-year-old who longs to please her Mommy.
9.) Dry, clean clothes for 3-year-old who soaks herself while “washing dishes.”

And I’m sure there are many more I haven’t counted.

This is my life, ya’ll. I get to do this every day.

And, yes, I DO ask God, every night, for another day of blessing.

Here’s what my Paradise looks like:

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Happy faces.

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Drawing on the paper got boring…

 

 

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January popsicles, out in the warm sunshine.

 

 

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Good times on the trampoline.

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Susannah making “soup” with some mud and sand – in a hollow tree stump.

 

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George wanted a turn at stirring.

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George got tired of stirring and decided to watch. The tiger joined him.

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Ready to play outside after a recent monsoon/downpour/get-Houston-out-of-this-drought rain.

 

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At the doctor about all of our recent sickness(es) that WON’T GO AWAY.

 

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