Memories MondayLate afternoon. Actually time to start dinner, but it's been two weeks solid of cooking nutricious meals and I know that if I wait just a little longer, I can convince Eric (who's home unexpectedly, after a cancelled evening conference) to go and get
patat from the local stand.
I get out the Jip & Janneke beads we bought this afternoon and call Mirthe over to the table, so that we can finish the craft project -- chestnut "spiderwebs" (I'll try and post a picture soon) --we've been working on during Anna's naptimes. The last step involves running beads on all the toothpicks and then gluing tiny "stopper" beads on the ends. It's fussy and just the sort of thing Mirthe adores.
Unfortunately, Anna didn't nap today, though she needed one badly -- she's been fighting a cold and has what I think is a mild case of the chicken pox (her fourth) and is just generally Miss Grumpiness 2006. She'll be turning 3 in a few months and is wringing everything she can out of the Terrible Twos, every last drop of preschooler attitude. That in combination with the time change and Mirthe's Fall Break (it's been cats and dogs around here for the past few days) has made for one tired little girl. (Tired, but insisting on poking her little nose into everything you do. And then stamping her foot about it, no matter what it is you are doing.)
So I call Mirthe over and, as expected, Anna follows on her heels. And my heart just sinks. I just can't deal with another squabble right now, and I know there'll be one -- this project has temper-tantrum-for-Anna written all over it.
But Mirthe's already digging into the beads and I can see Anna's fingers itching to do the same, so I take her onto my lap and let her pick out the beads for the spiderweb I'm working on. That goes surprisingly well, so I let her run the beads onto the toothpicks, which goes swimmingly. Once it's time to glue the little beads onto the ends, I move Anna over to her own chair and set her up with a cord, so that she can make a necklace. Stringing beads is good practice (= physical therapy) for her, but we don't do it enough, it never seems to happen.
I light the candles (we still don't have lighting above the dining table) and there's a tiny little bit of afternoon sun coming through the french doors behind us. It's warm and cosy there, the three of us busy with our projects, each of us doing her own thing. Mirthe finishes her spiderweb and starts a necklace, just like Anna. They chat back and forth over the bead box, taking turns picking and actually evenly dividing the really good ones, the Jips and the Jannekes. Compliment each other on how pretty the necklaces are turning out. Laughing and making each other laugh.
And my heart just floats back up from where it lay, so heavy with dread on the kitchen floor. Light but full with joy in my beautiful daughters. I know it's just a moment, and that tomorrow they'll probably be tearing each other's hair out (or worse, cutting it off with craft scissors) but for now, I'll take what I've been given.
