Peaceful Patience.

One of my resolutions is to write everyday. to stay sane. to grow. to be committed to something I love so dearly.
I just finished putting Ethan to bed. Noah went down a little earlier, giving Ethan and I quiet time to eat dinner together (soy sauce chicken) and read ("Gumdrop"-a book from Deana and the family from South Africa about a car with secret switches that makes it fast! swim! and fly! Ethan LOVES it).
He's in there now reading out loud by the light of his light up sword.
I danced with Noah in the kitchen today and cried. Twirled his growing body in my arms while listening to laughter bubble out of him. I cried because it seems so rare I enjoy my children, and for once my emotions lined up with what I was doing-dancing with him, enjoying his body cuddled into mine.

We are usually much to rushed to do this sort of thing. We are trying to get out of the house, or get down for naps, or get ready for bed. There is always somewhere we must be.
Having some time off this weekend was beyond needed. The chance to just be with my children, to not feel rushed reading them stories or taking the time to twirl in the kitchen for a bit was important for me in order to see how rushed our "normal" life is, and how good it feels to slow down.

Today Ethan's hair was full and a little fuzzy, kind of like the a horse's we saw this last weekend in Graeagle. He looked extra cute for his outing with Grandma and Papa. They took him to a movie and McDonald's for his birthday. He also got a ride on the Ferris wheel at Legends. Not a bad day for the kid!
Noah and I got some couch time together while brother was gone with soft gingerbread cookies made by Nana for Christmas. His crumbs fell down my shirt. Every so often he'd lean in and hug me, putting his head on my shoulder and I'd feel the crumbs fall. I didn't mind, not even one iota.
Tomorrow it's back to the race track. I'm praying to keep some perspective from this weekend, to hold on to some of the patience that grew out of the slow, gentle days, for all of our sakes.

Six.

Today is Ethan's sixth birthday. We've been talking for a while now about what he'd like to do to celebrate, and we settled on pancake breakfast in the morning at church, a little rest at home, and then Red Robin for an early dinner so Dad could go into work in the evening.
It was a sweet day with him. He was so excited and thankful for the transformer thing I got him, and his very own journal. "Now we can write stories together, mom!"
He's a thoughtful person. This morning he had made me, Joey, and Noah all pictures and laid them at our doors so that when we woke up we'd be surprised. 
For Christmas he found my absolute favorite book to read to him and he wrapped it, all on his own, with 8x11 computer paper. Then he covered it with a billion Christmas stickers so that it would look like Christmas paper. Then he mad a card, and taped it on. The paper itself was one of my most favorite gifts this year.
He's still learning to tie his shoes, and gets discouraged easily. I try to encourage him but can't help but empathize: as perfectionists, anything that isn't easily perfected is either dismissed or obsessed over. The hardest thing in the world is to work at something that doesn't come naturally, easily. I think I would dismiss the shoe tying too, if I were six, to get on to more important things like Mariokart.
We played together tonight. He coached me, "Mom, small adjustments. Small adjustments!" as I ran Mario off cliff after cliff.
He wants me to sing to him, every nite, "Sleepy Boy", two times. Sometimes he wants me to pray, and and lay with him. He is so independent and smart, I forget how little he actually is.