Today was a hard day. It started off that way far too early in the morning with the pat-pat-pat of little feet coming down the hall to my room. Then there was the six blocks of screaming because, horror of horrors, I made Cameron walk instead of wait for the bus. Not a good start to the day. Then later there was the yelling through London Drugs. The cashier knew his name. I’m relatively certain almost everyone in the store did.
I also peeked at my sister’s blog. Yep, that sister. I just need to say that a thousand bucks a month when you live for free in a great house is laughably so not a hand-to-mouth existence. Writing about penny-pinching when they’re hopping around the world on holiday and living in a penthouse in France is ludicrous. She’s a well-kept stay at home mom, best as I can tell, and hasn’t worked for a living since she was in her early twenties. Way to put me in a bad mood. I also shouldn’t have peeked as I exposed my internet snooping if she’s figured out statcounter or another blog-visitor tracking method.
Okay, vent over. It’s out, and it’s time for me to regroup with some happinesses.
Watching Cameron make himself at home at the coffee shop we visit in the mornings. The crew there all know him, and the manager seems to have a soft spot for my little love. Cameron marched right behind the counter and started asking questions as the newest employee there was weighing out beans.
Playing the name-calling game with Cameron, derived from his experimentation with what names get him in time out. Calling me a chair is fine, but a yucky bum bum is not. So he informs me that I’m a bed. I tell him that he’s something related to that – a chair. He calls me a blanket, and I call him a pillow. He calls me a door and I call him a window. Muffin, cookie. Moon, star. Television, remote control. I’ll sometimes switch and try to lead, but he doesn’t yet have a good feel for the game. At any rate, it’s good for ten or fifteen minutes of giggles, and lets him try out new vocabulary.
Hearing my little love announce that he loves spinach. The trick? Put it on pizza.
A purring Nimoo kitty, melting under tummy rubs. She’s barely left me alone since we got back.
Work. It’s good to have that feeling of accomplishment when I run the highlighter over completed tasks on my list. I love the feeling of having a challenge, calling in the ‘troops’, and getting it solved, like figuring out why the equipment room was over heating and helping coordinate the solution before freezer compressors died. Like having a meeting to discuss the finances of a certain group, being told that we’re not in as bad a situation as they were in last year, and even better being able to reassure my boss that our current situation is better than he thought.
Watching the glow in Cameron’s eyes as he gets himself dressed, head to toe, without assistance.
Snuggling with Cameron, reading story after story in the comfy chair and ottoman. Watching the Christmas lights on the tree, with the warm yellow glow of the starlights in the window behind us. Holding him close, as he nestles in, arms wrapped around mine.
When Cameron is very tired, and in need of reassurance, he won’t lie still on my lap. He’ll twist around and get himself up so his face is buried in my neck, pull my shirt aside, and press his mouth against my skin. There he’ll drift off to sleep.
He let me turn on the stars in his room tonight.