Lumpy Monday

Some days aren't nearly as good as others. Today, for instance, was kinda crappy. Lumpy. From the minute my feet hit the floor this morning, everyone seemed agitated. The agitation displayed itself in various forms of whining, crying and sassy tones. Defiance even entered the day's equation.

Abby, Henry and I have spent many days together and I think we all might be bugging the shit out of each other.

The day held blips of loveliness (listening, sunshine, manners, exploration and laughter) but many more lumps. That's just how some days roll. I guess it's how I know how to gauge a good day. When the sun set on this not-so-lovely day, I counted the fact that my children were slumbering among one of my blessings. But guess what. Henry wasn't really asleep. This is a kid that usually goes to sleep and doesn't wake up until the morn. But tonight's pinnacle boasted a ferocious tantrum that I'm quite sure all my mother's neighbors heard. Screaming, kicking and choking all because I left his room after he was asleep. Three times.

When I finally left Henry's room, a.k.a. Henry's House of Restlessness and Fatigue, he whispered to me, his scratchy voice still hoarse from screaming, "Momma, will you peease check on me?"

With one simple phrase, my son leveled the lumps of the day. Frustration washed away. Somehow, with one small question, Henry made my day.

I just finished checking on two beautiful, sleeping children. Long eyelashes resting on cheeks, bodies curled up and cozy under covers. Lumpy Monday is over. Much-Less-Crappy Tuesday is just around the corner.

Happy Birthday, America

Hubby, the kids and I are vacationing at my in-laws lake house. We're here with my mother- and father-in-law, sister-in-law, brother-in-law and their three children. We're experiencing pure summer bliss. On the Fourth of July, we journeyed on the boat to the most spectacular fireworks display I've ever seen.

The kids climbed into still-wet life jackets and we all piled into Poppy's boat. The clouds and the rain, which had hovered for the last 48 hours, parted. A hot pink and royal blue sunset emerged. Captain Poppy allowed each of the grandkids a turn at the helm as we traveled through the night to the perfect firework watching perch.

We anchored the boat and the waves kindly lapped the sides. The fireworks began, exploding overhead in a spectacular national birthday celebration. A perfectly orchestrated show ensued, brilliant reds, vibrant blues and gorgeous golds. After Abby patriotically whooped it up with her cousins in the front of the boat, she came to sit with me. We had a primo spot on the boat where we practically reclined. She rested her freshly bathed head next to mine. Her body was still. At times we discussed our favorite fireworks but mostly we lay hypnotized by the fireworks and the rhythmic lull of the boat dancing on the lake. To date, it is one of my favorite moments with my daughter.

The show ended. Abby vacated my lap and reolocated to Hubby's lap, drifting to sleep with his strong arms wrapped around her. Henry took advantage of the vacancy at my lap and dove into my arms. He curled up and promptly went to sleep. As we navigated the nautical traffic back to the lake house, I was once again lulled by the scent of a sweet child's head and the heavy weight of a small, solid body. I whispered my love to Abby and Henry in their dreams. The lake whispered, too, and wished everyone a good night's slumber.

Good night, lake.

Good night, America.