Bedtime

Tonight, I was stroking Alice's hair, arms and chest as she lay in bed -- the last step in our bedtime routine. Just as I was about to leave, she asked if I would continue for one more minute. 

A: "Mom, will you rub my heart for one more minute?"

M: "Sure Goose."

A: "G'G lives there. In my heart. Because she died. I miss her."

M: "I miss her too."

A: "She was nice. Why did she die?"

M: "Well, her body was old and she was sicky."

A: "Wouldn't it be sad if Angie and Stephen died?"

M: "Yes. But Angie and Stephen are young and healthy and they probably won't die soon."

A: Seemingly happy with this. "When we get old and sicky, we are going to die."

M: "......"

A: "Remember how G'G got me my pink phone and keys? That was nice."

M: "I love you, Alice."

A: "I love you, Mommy."

This Year, Last Year

Ceiling

I'm laying on the floor in the apartment, listening to the kids make noise in their room while catching up on Momastery. I'm realizing how peaceful and grounding this is. And feeling a little silly for it. 

But peace and relative quiet is a rare blessing. And I'll take it in whatever form it comes. 

As if to prove my point, Barrow is now crying...

Songs

When Alice was a baby, she wanted me to sing "Goodnight sweetheart" on repeat.  

Barrow's favorite song is "The Itsy Bitsy Spider." Calms him down immediately.