On my first day as a full-time mommy I watched my little girls bounce on the trampoline. 3-year-old Archangela gleefully jumped tirelessly, her movement causing 11-month-old Abigail to flail about like a happy little sack of potatoes.
We love the outdoors, but I am dreadfully out of practice. Pink little noses and bright blue eyes do their best to peer out from cozy nests of scarves, hats, and hoods. Abigail’s feet are bundled up with my gloves (my original plan, footie pajamas, was not up to the brisk November winds.)
I dig my numb hands deeper into my pockets, ever watchful of an off-course dive. We make up a little song, and Archangela jumps to the beat. “You are the bouncing queen… bouncing high on the trampoline, oh yeah!” (You catch the drift.)
The property comes with seven cats, four of them young kittens. They provide hours of entertainment to my girls, who in turn, amuse me to no end. To conclude their playtime, I hear Archangela issue one last command to the wild mousers; “Kitties, come for your cuddles!” Amazingly, they obey.
My ‘homecoming’ was met without fanfare or extravegance of any kind. But nothing at all was amiss, as you can plainly see by the events of my first day off the job (or ‘on the job,’ however you want to call it.)
Indeed, moments I would never trade.
“Smell the flowers and drink your coffee”