"Momma, I'm sorry," Jane shakes her head. "Will you forgive me for trying to make it look like I'm working when I'm really just sandbagging?"
The living room a kaleidoscope of laundry and legos, dollies and dart guns, velcro shoes, rain boots, socks and tinker toys dispersed like tide, I sigh. I smile at her tilted head, curls askew. "Yeah, I forgive you."
And so it is, all the counterpoint of discipline and training and it comes to this: repentance. Suddenly, she's easy to lead. Fierce girl that she is, strength under control is greater strength yet.
1900. Lucy's announcement, "If it's on the bottom right, that means it's in the middle."
1901. Family puttering around the table making breakfast together.
1902. How when I tell Jane that flattery will get you nowhere she asks, "Is flattery a street?"
1903. Family gathered for cousin's birthday, and how we laugh and visit, three conversations going at once, and land soft and tired for bed.
1904. Thai peanut sauce made from scratch.
1905. A trip to two grocery stores and home in less than an hour, a record to be sure.
1906. Jack crossing the street alone, off to fight nerf wars with the cousins.
1907. How he could jump off practically anything.
1908. Craig home safe from a conference away from home.
1909. Excavating the playroom into the new baby's and Jack's room, and all the help that went with it.
1910. Refurbishing cloth diapers in tiny sizes for new baby boy.
1911. The continued search for a one syllable boy name that Craig and I both love. (Any suggestions?)
1912. Jane's observation, "Daddy can make practically anyone laugh."
1913. How she wakes me this morning, "Momma, will you get up, I'm dressed and already ready for church."
1914. How when I tell Jack he's a nice boy he says, "You're a nice girl! Or woman."
1915. A road trip with the kids to run an errand.
1916. My huge belly and how all the quiet moments are filled with baby kicks and life moving inside.
1917. Learning the hard road of setting standards high and expecting the children to jump.