Saturday mornings I get up early and leave the girls sleeping in my bed while I sneak to the kitchen to make coffee. Quiet in my house is less rare than it used to be, but it’s still something I love to soak up while I can.
This morning I got the soccer uniforms together, put in a load of laundry, and emailed Soph’s coach to set up a playdate for our girls. My girls appeared next to me in the living room while I was typing, rubbing their eyes, their hair in sleep-rubbed tangles that will be a pain to deal with later on. Soph wants me to help her: with batteries for her camera, with emailing her friends, with putting a movie on, with spelling words, with starting her project that is due in four weeks. She wants me to make waffles. From scratch. Willow just goes to the kitchen table with a stack of light blue paper and the blue marker that she’s been using for the past few days to draw stick people. She hands me drawing after drawing, This is you and your friends, Mama: this is your boss, this is you, and this is Jenny.
It makes me sad that when she draws me, she draws me away. She used to draw me with them.
For days she’s had blue fingers and cheeks. The ink gets on her hands and she rubs her face. I find tiny blue fingerprints on the bedclothes and the bathroom counter. She washes her hands, but the ink doesn’t quite come off.
In an hour, the boys will be back from their friend’s house. We’ll pack up and go over to the soccer field. Instead of one long stretch today, we have one morning game and then three right around the same time this afternoon. I love standing on the sidelines watching my kids play, seeing them come running off the field toward me all out of breath and happy.