I can hear Claire Lauren in the living room talking quietly to her Daddy who has just returned from a 4-6am shift of 24hr worship up the hill. It's raining. The sprinkling sound is the perfect compliment to the sounds of the morning. It's so peaceful.
And then it happens. The invasion.
Noelle is awake. I spot her moving on the video monitor next to me. I alert Daddy, and he comes to get her. A quick sippy cup of almond milk for her and then it begins. The parade of children down the hall. I know where they're going. A few seconds later, and they've arrived. The invasion has begun. They've come to see "buddy," and to see what they can get into. Actually I take that back. I don't think they truly know why they've come until they get here. They are adventurers, explorers, treasure hunters, thrill seekers. They're spur-of-the-moment gals. We say, good morning, and then it hits. The chaos of 4 kids.
Claire jumps onto the bed, walks around like a dog sniffing out its prey and almost instantly finds what shes after. The remote. Without asking, she takes the liberty of tuning our tv to Phineas and Ferb, and then proceeds to arrange the pillows on our bed to precisely fit her snuggle bill. And then she settles in for some good quality Saturday morning laughs. Daddy's side of the bed has been occupied.
Avery jumps on to what we refer to as, "the ugly chair," does a few little fairy-tale-Avery-spins and small jumps, and finally plops down. She starts drawing a family portrait of us on her new dry ease board that she got as a prize from school yesterday. She begins narrating what she's drawing, why she's drawing it, and why she's chosen the look of each person in her portrait. She's invested in this picture.
Noelle is busy trying to climb onto my nightstand to talk on her "phone" (the baby monitor) for which I am adamantly reprimanding her for, and simultaneously asking for kisses from, since she's so close to me. She obeys after a few threats, finally gives me a kiss, and then shifts her focus to something else of interest...my fig newton stash. There are only 3 left. I offer her one to eat. She takes it, but doesn't eat it. She'd rather put it, and the other two, everywhere except her mouth. (She managed to shove a couple into her Daddy's mouth, who by the way, is now trying to rest on my side of the bed.)
And then there's Joel. Still nursing. Unaffected by the tornado that just blew in. I notice his long eye lashes and the way his expression changes as he eats, and I'm overwhelmed. I'm in awe. I look around, marveling at my life. It's wild. It's raucous. It's loud. And I realize for the hundred-millionth time that I wouldn't have it any other way.
I love the quiet still sounds and rustlings of the house, and I appreciate those moments so much. They are quite necessary. And there are no doubt times when I'm irritated by the circus coming to town that so easily (and efficiently) banishes the quiet, and steals my wonderings and day dreams. But once it's here it only takes but a second for me to look around at the miracles bouncing off the walls to realize that the circus life is the only life for me. My wonderings and day dreams aren't stolen. I take that back. They're only put on hold for a bit while I choose to realize that my best work, my most magnificent day dreams are spilling over with life right in front of me. I find myself in a time-outside-of-time moment and I'm almost certain it's only but a dream. And then someone breaks something, and it's business as usual. :)
We are thetrask6, and I wouldn't have it any other way! Happy Saturday morning!
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