I'm well aware that things around here have been pretty negative lately. It's the weekend, it's time to relax and be with family. It's time to regroup. The kids each have their first day care colds. We spent some time in the shower last night getting some steam into a croupy Connor's lungs. I'm trying not to see past all that. I'm going to try to have a good attitude so we can enjoy the last bit of this weekend together.

The lunches are packed. There is a huge container of sauce in the fridge. There are clean sheets and blankets and new diapers neatly arranged by the door. The kids each have five outfits stacked up and I ironed five days worth of work clothes and tucked them into Caroline's closet. We're sitting down to watch the Emmys, to have a laugh, to reconnect. We're oozing with positivity that this week will be better. Easier.

I try to take the time I have in our frenzied days to note the things I want to be able to recall when I am missing the kids as I sit in traffic or stare at an afternoon clock that simply refuses to move forward.

I noticed that Connor has picked up Caroline's old habit of touching skin. Whether I am feeding him a bottle or holding him in my arms willing him to sleep, he has started reached up under the bottom of my shirt to gently touch my side. It's sweet. Even sweeter is his other new found habit of laying his hand against my chest when I retrieve him in the middle of the night. It is a simple little gesture really, but it seems to scream, "you're here. I'm ok now. as long as I am touching you, I am ok." My heart runneth over. This boy with his amazing ups and depressive lows. Whether he is standing up in his doorway bouncer clinging like a monkey to the doorway trim or his whining at 2 am so dramatic and sudden in both wake up and instant calm, he has my heart. He's growing so fast these days, advancing along his path, learning at an alarming rate, reacting to his world, and filling it with his hearty belly laugh.


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