My house is quiet. Everyone’s in bed…even Dave. Here I sit trying to do something productive with the minutes before I should head to bed too…before all too soon the alarm will go off and it’s the race to get the kids ready for school, practicing done, lunches packed, hair done, breakfast made and cleared, and watch my three oldest kids strap on their backpacks, give me a kiss, and head out to the bus stop together. I like to watch them walk, not hand in hand, but as close as you can get to that, heads cocked toward each other as they talk about who- knows-what on their block walk to the bus stop.
I just rocked Lucy to sleep. She was the latest one up, playing by herself in the kitchen while I cleaned up the last of the day’s mess. She’s started crying when I put her to bed since we got back from Utah, and tonight a little water in the bottle didn’t calm her so I went and rocked her in the rocking chair. I haven’t done that in a while and I forgot how much I adore hearing her breathe on my shoulder…contented and peaceful. That was my very favorite thing when she was a newborn. Now she’s suddenly not a little bundle on my shoulder like she was ten months ago, but I still love listening to her breathe in my ear. She’s the chunkiest, cutest darn thing. And although I miss that newborn stage, and my heart aches with an empty spot each time I come to grips with the fact that she’s my last, it’s somehow peaceful and ok, and I’m somehow complete knowing that she’s here…that they’re here…five perfect “babies” that brighten my every day.