Sunday Brunch

You may have surmised, from my last few posts, that this whole two-kid thing is difficult.

Let me clarify.

It is the hardest thing I have ever done.

Okay, now that we have that cleared up, I am ready to celebrate a beautiful morning.

Andy woke up with Jack and took care of breakfast (a cookie for each of them) and entertained Joey until he said that he was hungry, at which point Andy brought the wee babe into bed with me and I snuggled and nursed and listened to Andy and Jack laugh and talk about Dora's latest adventure.

When I finally got out of bed we all played on the living room floor. Andy kept one hand busy bouncing Joey in his seat and the other tickling Jack. I laid on the floor in the midst of the sweet chaos and participated in the classic Jack sandwich game with Andy.

Then I made a shopping list and Andy took Jack to the store to get ingredients for a yummy Sunday brunch (because a cookie does not cut it), as well as coffee to fortify us for the day ahead.

As I made vanilla french toast with homemade blueberry syrup and whip cream...

Prior to going to the store

Andy and I had a long

heated conversation

about the merits of

whipped cream

vs.

cool whip.

He reviewed my list before

leaving, in case he had any questions

and when he got to the

"whipped cream"

he said,

"You mean Cool Whip?"

As if the two were interchangeable!

Never!

Despite his arguments that

Cool Whip is the greatest invention of all time

he brought home whipped cream.

Can you imagine desecrating

a beautiful fruit topped french toast

with COOL WHIP?!

Thankfully the Aichele house did

not witness such an

atrocity today.

Jack sat on the floor and read a book to himself (he has been doing this almost every day and it makes little bursts of joy bubble up inside of me)

Did I tell you that when

I was pregnant with Jack

my first totally out-of-control,

no-foundation-in-reality,

breakdown

happened when I was home alone

one night and I started thinking

about Jack as a little

elementary-schooler.

I got a vivid picture of him in my head

talking to Andy and saying,

"Dad, can you ask mom not to read to me anymore?"

And I burst into tears!

I have always looked forward to reading

to my kids

and the thought

(though totally imagined)

of him not wanting me to

was crushing.

So, now that Jack loves to be read to

and to read on his own,

I am truly delighted.

... Back to the story of this morning.

As I made french toast and sipped my iced coffee, Jack charmingly entertained himself and Joey rested peacefully on Andy's chest. The house was quite, in a restful, soothing way and my kitchen smelled delicious.

It was so many simple and small pleasures, rolled in to one 30-minute window. I felt refreshed by the break from the frantic, sleep-deprived fog that has seemed to hold me captive for the last month.

I realize that later this afternoon there is a good chance of the fog rolling back in, but that is why I put my baby down and let Jack run around unattended in order to capture the moment in writing.

When I look back on these difficult days, I will see that in totality, they have not all been painful or exhausting. Tender and delicious moments have peppered themselves throughout. And some day soon, the sweet will begin to overtake the sour and once again, I will find myself smiling at the prospect of each new day.

And now, Joey is frantically screaming to be held or fed, or some mystery something that I don't know about... so, back to the order of the day... but at least with a full tummy and a calm heart.