My dinner, two steamed artichokes, was warming and filling--surprisingly. Of course the draw of this sort of dinner is the lemon-butter thyme sauce that these little jewels are dipped in. It was perfect for our unusually cold weather. The heat kicks on when it gets down to 66 degrees in the house--it kicked on about three times today! Perfect for my "blog plans" of next week!
With a warm belly tonight and all kids tucked snug in their beds I'm feeling an unusual "high". So I ask myself this series of questions: is it because I'm halfway to an infant in arms? Is it because Craig and I have plans plus a babysitter later tonight? Is it because the stars (aka my hormones) are aligning properly? Or is it because tonight, before baths, I sat in Lucy's empty room (readied for flooring) and felt adored by the three minis flocking around me like hungry seagulls?
Craig and I fruitlessly (my stars were not aligned) started a comparison of "our jobs". I refused to accept that he understood my "plight" and internally argued to myself that "my job" is harder. Can we blame the childish stubbornness of a 30-year-old on hormones, too? There are huge difference and some similarities in what we do. Yet, his patients do not dissolve into a rolling ball of laughter and smiles when my own smile greets theirs (Hazel). His patients don't offer sweet words and pats of comfort after you've pretended--at their request--to "be in trouble and cry" (Lucy). They don't pray for your safety, and for happiness in the home, and for our beautiful Christmas tree (Seth). It is hard to care for toddlers, it is also hard to care for patients who have no patience nor care for you. I would never want to trade the home for the hospital. Never.
But, don't tell Craig.