We're all recovering from the winter cold that continues to zap the life from us. We're up to our eyes in boogers, but at least we aren't feverish or sluggish anymore. I laughed as I ran my fingers through Elle's tangled bangs before nap time, knowing that boogers were the sole cause of those nasty tangles. She swiped my hand away, "No touch my hair mama. That hurts!" I resorted to drawing figure eights on those large, warm cheeks of hers and softly finished her three favorite songs. I pointed my finger in front of her pointed nose and said, "Don't you get out of this bed until I come back. Your body needs rest." She's 80% obedient so I bet she followed my rule for about ten minutes. ;)
I found Genevieve leaning against her bedroom door with a coy smile painted on her face, "Hey mama, lookin' for these?" She then dropped her pants, mooned me and started giggling as she ran away. I chased her down the stairs and around the furniture until she finally gave up and let me scoop her up in my airs while pinching those dimpled bummies. (You should know that her favorite thing to do right now is moon us, and before she does it, she always asks, "Hey big guys, lookin' for these?" It is so funny.) I squeezed her so tightly and asked her not to grow up, which I do about one hundred times a day. She smiled her big sweet smile and whispered, "Mama, I have to get big. My body just won't stop growing, but I'll always be your girl." We danced in what will one day be our dining room, but is currently empty with the exception of Blue's crate. I raced her to the couch, and we read the two library books she chose the other day while cuddling under a warm blanket. I wiped her dripping nose and sent her upstairs for some much needed quiet time.
I rested my head on the back of the couch only to hear Felicity cry out begging to be held, and I found I big, fluffy head resting next to my knee when I opened my eyes. I strapped Birdie in the baby carrier and walked Blue to the corner and back, keeping my eyes peeled on the house. I came home, nursed her, made her smile, and put her back to bed. I found myself alone for about 2 minutes before I heard Genevieve's door creak open. Apparently quiet time was over. She peeked around the stairs and I motioned for her to come downstairs.
Now she sits next to me covering her My Little Pony in play-doh because all ponies need dresses. She has the silliest ideas, mostly due to YouTube. Haha. I'm finishing my lunch of a banana/strawberry/Silk smoothie, carrots and snap peas and writing what seems to be the most random blog post.
I love Friday afternoons. There is a palpable stillness in the air as we all wait for daddy to come home and be with us for a couple of days. Hopefully this weekend will allow us to recover completely. My dad flies in tonight and is watching the girls for us tomorrow morning so we can visit the temple. It's been too long; I'm embarrassed to write how long. It's the perfect Valentine's gift.
I feel a lot of love for Tim right now. I joked with him last night as we cuddled in bed that he should probably bottle up all this love I feel the need to express because who knows how I'll feel about him next week. We laughed a hearty muffled laugh under the covers, knowing I'll probably be insane next week and not want him to touch me at all. We tried to kiss only to find ourselves congested and begging for air. Sexy, right? Don't worry, no amount of congestion will ever stop my husband. He just patiently waits for me to blow my nose and elevate my pillow. I bet he never dreamed of these romantic scenarios eight years ago when he debated proposing to me. ;)
Well, this play-doh experiment is getting a bit out of hand, and I feel the need to step in and stop the inevitable mixing of play-dohs before it's too late. You know you're a mom when mixed play-doh doesn't phase you anymore. But I'm going to attempt to save the scraps I see she's not using so that the next time we play no one melts down when they realize the pink play-doh is now a poop brown color. Wish me luck. Happy weekend friends!
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"Be kind and considerate with your criticism... It's just as hard to write a bad book as it is to write a good book." Malcolm Cowley