...found Carly asleep on the playroom floor, covered in a purple and black quilt my sister made me going on 14 years ago. It's everyone's favorite blanket (except Josh, he has a blanket made from his Gramma Annie's shirts that fills that spot). Eric, Poppa, Carly and I have all snuggled under this blanket by turns. Tonight Carly was covered head to toe (which isn't much, she's on the smallish side you see) and I couldn't even tell it was a person under there until I moved the blanket back. In sleep she is so soft and peaceful, I can't help but wonder at what point the tornado starts to spin.
...always reflect on Mary during this time of year. I wonder how she felt, wrapping her newborn babe up and snuggling Him close. I wonder if she brushed away the little curls around His face, as I have done with my own children. I wonder if He drove her crazy, left little messes, cried too loud and too long for her patience. I can't imagine a child not doing that, even a perfect one. I wonder if it felt different.
...will probably yell again next Monday. I will probably threaten and cajole and bribe my way through the day. I will probably pause at the beside of my babies to brush the hair away from their sleeping faces. I will love them, not because they are children of God (they are), but because they are children of mine. And in that gentle, fleeting moment (that they will sleep right through) I will be glad.