My Ebenezer

In this picture I see: An impromptu snack right before bed A brother who has a tender spot in his heart for his sister. (He made up a little jingle that goes, "I love ya, I love ya, I love ya, love ya, love ya--Yay!" He sings it to her when she fusses.  Which is a lot.) A mom who is really. tired. A kitchen floor needing some attention. And I want to remember that right before this picture was taken, Eden had seen me sitting on the floor, and did that thing that is instinctive to toddlers; she backed up to me and sat on my lap.  I think this is hard-wired into kids before they are born.  Back-back-back-sit.  Like a truck with a back-up signal. That's one of those things you just don't want to forget.

Sometimes I startle myself with my meanness.  No, really. Just today at the lunch table, Eden was fussing (are you surprised?), Noah was bossing, and Seth was making weird sound effects and clanging a spoon on the table at the same time. "ENOUGH!" I yelled.  "I. Can't. Handle. Any. More!!" 'Cause that's just the sweetheart I am. I begin to think my problem lies when the noisiness of my children clashes with my craving for silence. And maybe it does to some extent, but I think truly when this happens, there's some soul noise of my own that needs to be dealt with.  Fast forward an hour later when Noah is occupied with Grammy over his Math lesson, and Eden and Seth are down for a rest.  Now it is quiet, and I have a minute to finish my chapter in the book I have been reading, Loving the Little Years .  Imagine my shock when I came across this passage that seems like the author was reading my mind: "You feel like the only thing you do all day