The newest game in the Silvera
household—musical beds. Maddi decided the hallway linen cabinet is a perfect
second bedroom. Last night she made a snugly bed on the closet floor with
blankets, pillows, stuffed animals and a flashlight. Barely fitting underneath
the bottom shelf, she curled up and slept for a couple of hours until she
bonked her head and sneaked into my room for the rest of the night.
This morning Maddi asked for some water-lemon.
She never can quite remember how to say watermelon. Then she caught herself and
said what she meant was a lemon-time, her way of saying Clementine.
Getting ready for preschool, she
dressed in layers today: pink tutu, red tights, purple sweatpants, a wool
sweater with her checkered winter coat over that. Blue earmuffs over her
favorite hat with the white snowball pom-pom, black dress gloves under her baby
blue mittens. Her final accessory—a purple fleece scarf with white daisy print.
I read recently of a woman my age
who never wants to have children. And I paused thinking to each their own.
I know for myself I want my children–they fill my days.
I’ve heard other people say “my kids
are my life.” I’m not sure I can say that is exactly true for me either. My
life is my life. And I realize someday my children will grow and leave and have
lives that are their own lives.
I do know my children bring great
meaning to my life. They are my energy, my love, my sparkle. They remind me
what it’s like to be four years old—carefree as eating a juicy Clementine on a
hot summer day. They remind me how comforting it is to snuggle. They remind me
that I can create my own style. They remind me to love and to love with sparkle.
To each their own. I’m glad they’re
mine.
