time stands still best in moments that look suspiciously like...
ordinary life
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
Today was just another day.
The boys - even though it was Sunday - had hockey and I woke to their alarms punching holes in the night even earlier than I do for work.
Today was just another day.
I lay in bed, thinking of what I accomplished yesterday (not as much as I'd hoped), deliberately turned away from this next week, and thought of what needed to be done today. Remembered I had to get Max to Steiner for his last session of mini camp, take two quizzes before midnight (I promptly forgot), and the memory of protein shakes in the fridge waiting to be poured into glasses hauled me out of my cocoon.
Today was just another day.
Marko rushed up to me, snuggled in deep under my arm for a hug, his enthusiasm and "Happy Birthday Mom!" warm against my chest. He asked about my sleep, any dreams I remembered, if he could draw me a picture, mow the lawn, and asked me questions about what happens if a plane hits Mt. Everest and if he could buy a fake thumb and then wandered off to have a read in my bed.
Today was just another day.
Max came into the car, smiling theatrically over my shoulder as I loaded the car. He asked how I slept, what time is the hike, if I remembered ah to buy the trail mix he used to like when he was little. (It's been so long since he was little!) Morg and Tezz chatted about not much at all. Max one sentence about school as he drove to hockey, then ate four pieces of toast, peanut butter and banana dripping joyfully from his grip. He yelled out a denial to Marko's accusation of dusting (shinny hockey game competition had rapidly evolved to best of eleven) and they both sat, slapping at each other, laughing as I sat watching them and watching for cars.
Today was just another day.
There were no cards, no breakfast in bed, no wrapped presents. Max offered a handful of his favorite nut and chocolate mix from his bag, and the offer itself was gift enough. We watched as 19 hockey boys made their way up the trail, the beloved Dog Lake, repeating favorite lines together and laughing. Morgen, Max and Marko are all in bed now, snuggled in deep just the way they like it: Maxi in a knotted twist of blankets, dog and limbs, Morg impossibly pillowed with Tezz, and Marko my comforter kicked onto the floor.
Today was just another day.
I had kissed them each goodnight in the family room, saying "I love you" against their cheeks. Five, ten minutes later they each yell out again "Love you Mom!" and I yell it back, a tradition and defense against the world for years now, then their sleep drifts under their doors and down the hallway.
Today was just another day.
Despite the way birthdays excite me so delicately, so I'm an excited bunch of joy but no bleeding, today really was just another day. Another day of being with my boys, listening to them cry laugh and debate, having their laughter soak into my bones. To have Max want to drive me home from the picnic because of my headache, to Marko bouncing onto my bed to read beside me, to have the last thing they say - and hear - being "I love you", was just another day.
Just another ordinary, familiar and wonderful day.
