Wednesday, August 19

Fiery Furnaces and such

The last couple of posts are just down right de press ing. I know. I'm sorry.

But you should know, I feel slightly better this evening.

First I hiked with Josh and Carly (uphill both ways with no shoes, mind) to the hill way at the back of our yard. There was lots of cactus so I was forever telling the kids to watch out. For cactus. Watch out! I think sometimes Carly was put on this earth purely to teach me to open my eyes. We gathered stones and dry wood. No one got poked. The wheelbarrow tipped over 2 times when Josh tossed in rocks with too much impatience enthusiasm.

Then we sat out by the (completed thanks to Eric) fire pit and listened to the wood crackle and disassemble into ash. Everyone should have a fire pit, it's theraputic. We toasted too many marshmallows, I can feel one sticking to my rib as I type. The wind was sweeping dusk across the sky, ushering trouble away like a broom making quick work of the dirt. We told Carly to watch out. For fire. Watch out! We yelled a couple of times, which irritated me. But then, we settled in. And darkness fell.

The kids were ushered in for showers. They left a lot of dirt on my bathroom floor. And I haven't cleaned it up yet, no sir. Take that troubles! They came out smelling of Axe and strawberries, respectively.

I sat in the family room and ran a brush through Carly's wild mane. The curls never uncurl, just bounce right back into springy shape. And so shall I. I sang to distract Carly from the unpleasant brush that had to pull out the tangles. Primary songs. And Old McDonald because she was being so good that I let her have one rowdy song. One rowdy song that made everyone laugh, especially at Eric's squirrel/dolphin impression. Josh rolled on the floor, as is his wont, and Carly came away with 4 perfectly imperfect pom-poms.

Then to bed with the wee ones and a movie for the not-wee ones. (17 Again, if you wanted to know. We liked it.)

Now the house is quiet. Just a ticking of the clock and the sighing of breath. The ending of a day and the beginning of another.

Starting fresh.