Reaping lifes rewards and the little things that matter.

I apologize. I have been a very bad blogger. Life happens but I am here now.

This morning started much like many mornings in my home. The distant sound of a blow horn grew louder and louder until I rolled over and tapped the snooze button on my iPhone. My little one decided to lay claim to her father’s side of the bed while he is out of town for the next few weeks. She snuggled a bit closer when I moved. Yes, she is eight but they grow up so fast. Who can deny a mother from cuddling her youngest while she is still allowed to do so? I pulled my arm, numb from the elbow down, from under her silky black hair and slumped out of bed, grumbling the whole way to the bedroom door. I flicked a switch on and squinted my eyes to shield them from the sharp assault of the hall light and knocked on my sixteen year old son’s door.

“I’m up. I’m up!” he snarled.

I waited for another minute and peeked in. He wasn’t. I called his name again and told him that I was not going to leave until I saw foot on ground and body upright. When that was achieved, I told him that cereal had been put on the counter the night before. Then, I crawled back into bed to rest my eyes for three more nine-minute intervals of closing my eyes and hitting the snooze button again.

Next, it was baby girl’s turn.

“Mommy, I just can’t get up. I can’t move. Your bed is so comfortable. I can’t get up.” she whined.

Once again, I informed a child to take the first step and dangle the feet over the edge. She is a perkier kid in the morning than her brother. Once her feet hit the ground, she is rearing to go. That is until it was time to actually leave the house for the walk up the hill to school.

We got dressed, brushed hair and teeth, made her lunch and morning to go cup of tea for her and my coffee and hit the road. I wished I had watched the weatherman this morning. We braved fifty mile per hour winds on our journey up that hill. We made it to the corner and said good morning to our morning man candy, Officer Josh. One of the many benefits of living next to a school is that Monday through Friday one of the county’s finest men in uniform helps us cross the road. I love chivalry even if they get paid to do it and we are blessed with a different one every morning. Today was Officer Josh’s day. I digress. But, as a romance writer one couldn’t ask for a better way to start the day.

We crested the hill. The brutal assault of the icy wind pushed us back. It felt like Zeus was trying to drive us back home. I looked across the street. There was a flock of geese standing strong against it in the high school parking lot. The leader, Attila, as we call him squawked at us be I was not going to let a group of foul fowl deter me. We carefully crossed the icy high school parking lot and my daughter says, “Mom, are you staying for the assembly?”

I inwardly grimaced. “What assembly, Sweetie?”

I was then informed that my little one was speaking at an assembly on honesty. Well, there went the excuse I was going to pull out of my ass. It was a good thing that I dressed tastefully instead of throwing on the mom sweats. It was also a good thing that I wrapped my scarf around my head.

The blustering wind would not stop our quest. We finally made it to the elementary school. I signed her in and sent her to class and then sat in the lobby until it was time to head to the gym.

The bell rang and the halls grew silent. I stared down the glistening white hallway and let my eyes take in every image. Posters, paintings, drawings and crafts canvassed the walls like Skittles strewn across the purest of snows. I closed my eyes imprinting the visions on my mind and listened as the stragglers started to arrive. Children bolted through the heavy door. Exasperation creased their mother’s voices. The words, “You see what happens when I say we have to go. When I say go. That means go!” My eyes opened. Not one of those moms stopped to kiss or hug their little one goodbye. I remember days with my oldest children; days when I was frustrated and tired and didn’t pause for the little things and my heart broke a little.

Today was not going to be one of those days.

One little girl caught my eye. She was so like me as a child. Watching the quiet sadness behind her eyes, I began to ponder parenthood and my life’s evolution from bright-eyed child to world-worn adult to finding my happy place. Now, even the little things that make me smile and lately, I’ve been ecstatic.

Last week, my littlest one had a great week. She brought home a remarkable report card and competed in her first dance competition. She and the three other girls in her routine won two awards, first top place and highest pointed awarded in her age group.

This week, I had a great week. It ended with a cuddle, a walk and reaping the rewards of the little things.

~ by E. Tate Johnson on February 26, 2010.