My Favorite Day

This is my no nanny day. This is the day on which my patience is tested and punctured. Over and over. This is the day on which I am a shuttle service. Back and forth between school and home. Back and forth. This is the day on which I roll around on the floor and giggle a lot. This is the day on which I am always one glorious step behind.

I don't know why it has taken me so long to realize this, but today, Wednesday, my day alone with the girls, is my favorite day of the week. My favorite.

And it is 2:24pm and this is supposed to be my break. Nap Time. The girls are supposed to be snoozing, dreaming of chocolate milk and baby dolls. Supposed to be. But not today. Toddler was the first to boycott. She is curled up next to me on the couch, clutching a purple backpack and a maraca, watching Little Einsteins. And now as I type this, I hear Baby's cries. She has been asleep for a short time. And on the monitor, I see her standing, clutching her crib rails, swaying. Calling for me.

And so I will close my laptop and I will go to her. I will lift her little body over those rails. I will plant a soft kiss on her forehead. I will wipe away her tears. And then I will change her diaper. And then the three of us will play. We will do puzzles and push tiny strollers. We will have snacks and be silly.

This blog can wait. You can wait. I can discuss existential cleavage another day. Today (and every day) I am a mom, at the mercy of miniature people who melt me.

Today is my very favorite day.