My hair is medium brown--not dark and glossy, not light and full of life--just medium brown scattered with a few dozen gray hairs that seem to multiply every few days. My eyes are somewhere between blue and gray. Unremarkable and usually hidden behind glasses smudged by little fingers. I am at least 30 pounds overweight and often uncomfortable in my own skin. My kitchen is full of dishes and the floor is littered with crumbs. Laundry is piled in the corners of every bedroom. My yard is full of weeds. My kids spent ours watching TV today while I struggled with a stomach bug. I usually don't bother to put pants on my 2-year-old, and I often forget to check the toilet seat for drips before I sit down. It feels like weeks since I connected with another adult in a meaningful way. And I have ignored this blog and nearly every other form of writing for months.
But tonight, as the sun sank and the house became quiet, Little Man crept out of his bedroom, climbed into my lap, and snuggled in to sleep. My soft body was a comfortable place to rest at the end of the day. The not-so-clean house filled with the peace of sleeping children. My sometimes lonely heart beat slowly against my precious son's own heart. And, for tonight, I'm OK.
