quiet time

The best time of the day for me are those precious minutes after the grand kids have collapsed and before I collapse right behind them.  They are bundles of energy, but when that energy is depleted, they deflate like a cheap spare tire that's had too many miles put on it.  Last week while school was out for the Thanksgiving holiday that is celebrated here in the US, Maddie looked at me and said in her little girl voice:
"Grammy, would you come lay down with me until I go to sleep?"

She is a restless sleeper, and has a bit of apprehension when she lays down at night.  So being the good Grammy I am, I said sure, figuring I would fall asleep too and wake up hours later with my contacts glued to my eyeballs.

But I didn't go to sleep.  I lay beside her on the bottom bunk bed for less than 5 minutes, and listened to her breathing slow down, and become rhythmic and even.  I looked over at her and realized she had drifted off, just that fast.  Then I looked again.  At her smooth skin, her innocent face, and how peaceful she looked.  I took this photo of her, and when I look at it now, I can remember that moment with perfect clarity.

I think of Maddie, and that moment in time when I listened to her breathing, and kissed that soft cheek.

It also brought back sweet memories of my own children, now long grown to adulthood, and the many nights I tucked them in and told them I loved them, before they went to sleep.  Those few minutes each day gave me time to realize that no matter what the day brought, turmoil, happiness, sadness, anger, or laughter, ending the day with peacefulness and quiet time let my babies put their spirits to rest, and prepare for whatever adventure met them the next day.

Quiet time.  My time to be thankful for every baby in my life, young or grown.  The glue that holds me together.

...life is good. ~cath
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

secret sister moments

 They rush to the window when they hear a commotion.  Leaping onto the couch, they pull back the blinds and peer out.  The dogs clown on the front porch, begging for their attention with goofy barks and funny faces.  They watch the dogs, laughing together as the youngest attempts to capture the clowning on camera.  They laugh and talk, oblivious to the world.  Caught in a moment of laughter and secret sister smiles.

I watch them and for a moment, if I blink and imagine, they are small girls again, the youngest following the eldest's lead, miming her big sister's actions, because big sisters know best.  I am lost for a moment in my reverie, watching them.  Seeing them not as women, but as my little girls.  I want to save this moment, this memory, and grab my camera and start taking photos.  They don't notice me at first, and I smile as I watch them.

The moment is sweet, and lasts for just a few brief minutes, then they notice me, and holler, turning in unison to make faces at me for capturing them with their hair mussed up, and in their sleep wrinkled tee shirts and fleece pants.  "Oh MOM!" they shout, but it is too late.

The sweet moment is mine, captured for me to look at and remember.

Such is the stuff of my life.  Moments of sweetness dispersed among my daily routine.

~cath xo
Twitter @jonesbabie