It seems like no matter what ickiness is going on in my life, if someone asks me about my kids, my face lights up and I drift into happyland. For example, a few days ago, I was working with a friend who is helping me think through some Big Picture issues. The conversation contained very little happiness in it. She asked about the kids and, you guessed it, my face lit up.
I told her about how that morning I had time to make big boys a yummy breakfast and we talked in the car on the way to seminary. The stars were out; the boys' hair was fuzzy in that fluffy-squirrel sort of way; the scents in the car were comfortingly scrumptious as they slurped their way through several slices of homemade French toast and fresh orange juice with a hint of Madagascar vanilla.
When I got home, I got a steaming hot shower that eased the tension out of my muscles.
Then I sat down at the table with my two youngest and played a few games, did homework, enjoyed their chipper little laughs and their funny stories. We dressed warmly then walked to school, stopping at the park on the way to fly a few paper airplanes we had made while still at the breakfast table. We talked about each plane's aerodynamic construction. As the little ones launched their planes off the "balcony" spot at the park, we analyzed each plane's roll, pitch, and yaw. I thrilled to hear them using the real terminology.
So, if you ever see me looking sad, ask about my kids. I see so much goodness in them, can't help but smile.
