It' s eight nineteen at night. Owen has just gone home. There are clusters of toys and blocks and pans spread out everywhere. There is a load of laundry in the dryer, a load in the washer. There are at least two dozen diapers to wash.
And already my arms feel empty. They are tired, but they are empty. But that's okay. I can use them now to fix the supper (leftovers!) to finish the laundry, to clean up the toys and blocks.
It was a good day. We got in the pool, we took a bath (water therapy), we fed the chickens, we walked the yard, we rocked on the porch, we had a nap, we ate yogurt and bananas and potatoes and carrots and venison. We kissed the dolly. We played peek-a-boo. He walked to me and to Kathleen who came over for a quick porch visit. His Pop-Pop got him down for a very short sleep with a bottle while Kathleen and I talked on the porch.
Another day filled with life. And I will sleep well tonight.
I hope he does too because I know his mama is tired. Thank god she is young. Thank god I am not too old.