His party got booked on Saturday. That afternoon I sent out a text evite to a handful of family and friends who live in town. On Tuesday I ordered cupcakes. And an hour before, we picked up pizzas.
We aren’t in a place where we plan very far in advance… Not that we’ve really been in that place since adding a third to our brood. In fact, last year, he didn’t even get a birthday party. Unlike when the first turned one and we invited 60 of our closest friends. The littlest’s 1st birthday fell while daddy was away on business and with it being just 15 days from Christmas, we just weren’t on the ball enough to get something on everyone’s busy calendars.
So this year, we had to find some way to celebrate. And so we booked a holiday lights tour. For tonight. 5 days beforehand. Hoping the kids would at least find it to be an event. And I imagined it would be a good time.
But I had no idea it would mean so much to me. I watched all the kids lined up, peering through the window.
Kids whose parents we’ve now known for a decade and a half. I listened as the kids giggled an sang Jingle Bells. I heard them oooooh and aaah as the bright lights twinkled. I got giddy as a surprise visit from Santa happened upon us.
My heart was replete with joy. Well-fed by the warmth of the season and the wonderment of the children surrounding us. I took pause and mentally photographed my friends surrounding us. These people. Gems of my earth. And thought, the best is truly yet to come.
I carried the Littlest into his room for the night and switched the light off. I sat down in his chair… The same black-and-white-dotted swivel rocker I’ve gotten to know each of our boys in. And he lifted his head up from my shoulder, looked at my face, and then nestled the side of his face into the crook of my neck. I glided back and forth, singing Christmas carols, and thought to myself, how did I get to here? How did I get so lucky?
He pulled his head up and pointed to his crib and I knew it was his signal to close down this day. This day. His last day as a one year old. And I kissed his forehead, and placed him down for sleep.
As I walked out of his room, the Middlest was having a small fit after having woken from a trolley nap. But for some reason, his cries weren’t at all annoying or frustrating to me. They were cries begging to be snuggled out. And so, I scooped him up and we packed under his blankets. I ran my hand atop his head and hummed Christmas Carols. And I could feel it all the way to my toes… There was no place I’d rather be. Once again, this night seemed like it could not give me more than it already had delivered. There was no other moment than that. There were no other to-dos. And so, I laid and listened to his micro-snore.
I awoke to the hubs telling me I’d fallen to sleep and kissed the Middlest on the cheek. Kissed the oldest on his arm. And said goodnight.
And I felt a calm of mind and heart as I pulled their door closed behind me. Thankful for this day where I was reminded, once again, that motherhood is exactly where I want to be. Thankful for the payoff for the moments when they’re screaming about the way I cut the bread or I am feeling nasty for taking away the bedtime book. Thankful for the days and moments and hours that are filled with the very best parts of it all. Thankful for this life’s events that remind me, forcefully, that there is no place I’d rather be.
