Life

Quiet?  Is it actually quiet in my house?  I am now sitting down on the couch to enjoy this quiet with my bowl of Life cereal.  It's one of my favorites.  How ironic, though, after the last four hours of my real life.  

It was just one of those nights.  You know, one of those.  One of those nights where Owen, Griffin, and I were all equally exhausted making for one heck of a battle.  And trust me, there were battles.  One of those nights where swear words went through my mind towards Jason's softball team for making it to the championship tonight of all nights, and I wonder how single parents do it.  One of those nights where Owen went to bed 45 minutes early because we both needed it.  One of those nights I lost track of time-outs.  One of those nights Griffin's excrement wouldn't be contained by his "nb" sized diaper.  You know, one of those night.

Thankfully, it was just one of those nights.  The day part of today was actually really good.  My mom, the boys, and I went to the farm to help my grandparents harvest sweet corn again.  Last weekend there was a lot more entertainment for Owen with all of the cousins around, so today when it was just us I was nervous he was going to be into everything and make my grandparents wish we had never come to "help."  However, to my surprise (and delight) Owen was an angel.  He helped himself to a few, okay several, handfuls of corn and was quite content with his job of throwing the empty cobs into the back of the truck to get hauled away to the burn pile.  He looked so cute stomping around the farm.  Little farmer Owen.  By the time we were ready to go home it was perfectly nap time, and he slept the whole way home - not a peep.

Finally back at home it didn't take long to realize I should have napped in the car, too.  (And, no, I wasn't driving.)  Now, with Owen rested up, it was too late.

Before all heck broke loose there were a few moments of calm.  Griffin asleep in his crib.  Owen as-quietly-as-he-can playing in his room.  As soon as I realized the perfection of the situation: pitter-patter, pitter-patter.  Stomp, stomp.  Stomp.  "Ball!"  Owen was back in the living room expanding the destruction zone of hurricane toy box.  And literally within second of his arrival: cough, cough, whimper. Cry.  Scream.  Coming from a tiny body laying on his car and truck crib sheets.  It was down hill from there.

Now as I look over my cereal bowl at my living room, it doesn't take long to remember that it was definitely one of those night.  Mrs. Potato Head, who in Owen's world is shaped all to much like a football, is laying body-part-less in the middle of the room.  Her pieces are strewn about all four corners  as if I had been practicing some cruel, gruesome amputation surgery.  Books, pillows, shoes, balls, and Cheez-Its as far as the eye can see.  The rug is bunched up an crooked.  The remote is long gone.  My cell phone is hiding in the wicker basket under the coffee table.  

But, you know what... I don't care.  Because at this moment, it is quiet.  Ah, quiet.  Although it was one of those nights, there are two beautiful, precious, sleeping boys in this house.  And one is laying here beside me smiling as he dreams.  So I'm going to sit here on my couch for the next several minutes and enjoy my Life.