Five Minutes of Perfect

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The semester has started for both Brian and I, and it’s a doozy.  I never thought I’d be one of those people who have a sit down meeting on Sunday nights to discuss the week ahead.  We schedule it all down to the minute, figuring out where to shoehorn two hours for me to run errands, another few somewhere for writing, or being horrified at just HOW MUCH homework Brian always seems to have.  Sigh.  I thought my stuff was difficult… (and it is, just not as bad as his.)

I don’t know how we did it last year, except that maybe it was easier because the baby slept more?  That’s the only thing I can think of.  He’s big now, dropping slowly down to one nap and demanding my time when awake.  I think I read Good Dog Carl (ie, explained the pictures) twenty five times today.  That’s a low estimate.  I read Busytown Cars and Trucks from A to Z probably ten.  He used to stand on his counter-height stool and yell at me when he wanted milk, but now he brings me his empty sippy and says “cup,” urgently.   He’s growing up in rapid form.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this except to say that we’re filled up full over here.  Some days it’s too full, but mostly it just is.  And at least we love each other.  I was cuddled up on the couch with Brian for a few minutes this afternoon, my head on his shoulder, when the baby noticed and dived in to laze between us.  It was a single perfect five minutes before the small boy couldn’t sit still anymore and squirmed away.

And then Brian had to leave to make it to his concert tonight, and I had to grab the kid a snack, and the classroom readings finally downloaded on my phone, and we were all off on the chase again.

But there will be five minutes of perfect in my future again, I’m sure.  As long as I don’t expect any more than five minutes…

 

 

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