gifts

There it is. I just want to get my sharp pair of Ginghers and cut it all up. These children have a cutting fetish. Anything that can be cut (and quite a few that oughtn't) will be cut with their sharp little scissors. I don't think I ever got over my cutting fetish. Just the way that really nice fabric feels as it goes through my sharp, heavy scissors is therapeutic, somehow. Ahh, to have something to look forward to.

My good list for yesterday is short. We went to the library, and Samuel actually sat still for maybe two stories out of the storytime. Progress! Usually he's running from one side of the room to the other, or out the door, or pushing other people's strollers around and going through purses. So the fact that he sat and listened is a great stride.

When we were leaving the library, I had Gabriel in his carseat under one arm, the two other children behind me, and one hand for Samuel. I tried and tried to pick him up, but he kept melting out of my hand into a screaming puddle on the floor. Just as I was about to have to put everything down and start over, a friend saw that I needed help. She carried Samuel (and pushed her double stroller) all the way to the car and helped me put him in. I was embarrassed not to be the everything's-under-control mom, but it was so nice to have somebody reach out and help.

Last on yesterday's list-rain. Light rain that started in the late afternoon, steady rain that drummed on the windows while I made dinner and cleaned up, sonorous rain that pounded the roof while I lay in the dark waiting for sleep. When I woke up again at midnight to find a pacifier, the only sound was the constant, monotonous beat of the heavy rain, pouring down on our house where everybody was sleeping. In a place where there hasn't been enough water for a year, every raindrop is a gift, and yesterday they came down in buckets.

I wonder what today's gifts will be?