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Tuesday, January 16, 2007

The Magic Hour

After way too many months of the magic hour=the kids are in bed and now I need to get as much work as possible done. Tonight was magic hour=sweetness.




My very kind and intuitive children knew that the last couple of days had been especially stressful for me and so we decided that today after about 1pm we were going to make it a super fun day. For Christmas, Grammy and Grandpa decided to stock the new art room full of supplies and the kids would get the chance to pick out all the crayons, paints, glitter (which always needs to be in large supply), glue, jewels, ribbon, paper, and every thing and artist needs to make great masterpieces. It was also a chance to stock up on science experiments for Emmett because his brain is always considering what's possible. We filled our cart at a couple of stores and brought all the booty home.

While I got caught up on a couple of things my very thoughtful children decided to surprise me. When I walked into the front room is was totally picked up and organized (this is saying a lot since it looked like a tornado/hurricane had hit it only 30 minutes earlier).

I'm already in love with my children but a surprise like that puts a mom over the moon with happiness!

Bedtime can some times be a crazy time of the day. Tonight it was sweet and perfect. After reading a Jesus story, singing a song, and praying it was time to jump into bed. My sweet Gracie climbed into my lap and cuddled her head into my neck. I love the sweet smell of her little self and the warmth of her wrapped in her favorite blanket. After not getting a nap today she was nodding off right away and her breathing fell into a rythmic sweet sleep. It's at this point that I don't want to move...ever. I just want to stay in that sweet moment forever, wrapped in her sweet sleeping, wanting her to never grow up. But ultimately she eventually tries to get more comfortable and I know that I can't keep her on my lap, gently sleeping. I've got to let her go. I've got to put her in her bed. After I lay her in her bed I see her sweet face and stroke her soft baby skin and can't imagine that she will grow up. The light from the hallway just reaches her face and I can see that she is peacefully in dream land.

There are so many wonderful things about bedtime. My little girls take the ponytail holders, braids, and headbands out of their hair and I gently untangle their blond locks with my hands as their eyes begin to droop and eventually close. I lean in to kiss them on the cheek and say, "I love you. See you in the morning." A groggy, mostly asleep little voice always says, "I love you, too, Mom. See you in the morning." In the next room my son has been completely immersed in a book and now is on the verge of sleep. I kiss his cheek (that's becoming less cool when he's fully awake with friends around) as he drifts into dreamland. I say, "I love you and thanks for the wonderful surprise of cleaning up the house." His sleepy voice comes from somewhere far away, "I love you, too, Mom."

When I come downstairs there is evidence of the sweet day we've spent together and the kindness of my children every where I look. Everything is clean and in the middle of the floor, lovingly placed into perfect piles are all the art supplies.

The Magic Hour= My Sweet and Loving Children.





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2 Comments:

At Wednesday, 17 January, 2007, Blogger Dustin Izatt said...

What a beautiful story Davina. Your kids are so adorable and you guys make just the sweetest and cutest family ever. Children truly are a miracle. I have never known true love and how my parents felt until I had my own children. They are growing up so fast and I cherish every moment with them. Thank you for sharing this very special moment of your life with us, it inspires me to spend more time with my precious children. I had tears of joy and happiness reading this :)

 
At Wednesday, 17 January, 2007, Blogger Anne said...

Awwwww... Davina, I don't even have kids and I was tearing up! ;-) Don't ever forget that your wonderful children came from an amazing mother.

 

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