Out the door

     My morning was pretty typical - up early to grade, the clanking of Buddy's Appliances, my tiptoe march into the sleep den, lots of hugging, kissing, laughing, and joking around ... until it suddenly wasn't funny anymore that my darling sleepsters weren't getting out of bed. I like to lay next to Annie and pretend that she's a little doll. Graham enjoys a specific pattern of nose kisses and arm squeezes each morning. All of that is delightful. I love to see their rumpled faces and haystack hairdos in the morning.
     But when it's time for them to get out of bed, I get anxious. My inner drill sergeant emerges. I may or may not have slammed a closet door so hard (after the snuggling routines!) that all the puzzles on the attached hanging rack fell off. We need a streamlined dynamic, yes, but I at least try to show an increase of love to my kids after said slamming. I'm sometimes not sure what else to do to light a fire under them. Perhaps literally lighting a fire under them is my next strategy.
     On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I need to have them dropped off at school no later than 7:29 a.m. so that I can make it to my dual credit class 25 minutes away. The kids know this - believe me, they know this - but Thursday mornings are so lovely for sleeping in (after our weekly Cub Scouts sessions on Wednesdays), that they still take their sweet time.
     We made it today. They were on time and I was on time. And of course, as soon as I left the school lot, headed toward the highway, I was filled with an overwhelming love and concern for these two little people entrusted to my care. They may be dawdlers of the first order, but they're mine.

     On Sunday morning, we also hurried to church. I absolutely abhor being late to Sacrament meeting. Getting us to church and in the pew by 9:01 takes a logistical prowess that sometimes seems beyond me. Strange, that. Last year, when I was serving as YW president, I regularly (3 x a month) had Sunday a.m. meetings at either 7:30 or 8:00 ... and I brought my kids each week. I made cinnamon rolls, packed a breakfast picnic, brought scripture DVDS, and just set them up in a cozy little nursery nook next to the meeting room. When I think of doing that several times a month, I have to laugh at my struggles now, but I see that I was strengthened during that tenure of service. 
     When we sat down in the chapel on Sunday, I breathed an enormous sigh of relief, and turned to the kids with a big smile: "We did it, you guys! We made it on time. Nice job!"  I felt as though I'd just run a 5K or something. How ironic that the opening hymn included these lyrics: "On this day devoid of strife/let us seek eternal life." I almost burst into laughter during the 2nd verse. Devoid of strife? We're working on it...

(These are pictures from the first day of school. What tan faces they had!)