I want to remember today. But I know I won't. I might have photographs, a little video and these words, but before long today, what it felt like to be a mommy to these three today, will be out of reach....
My 6 1/2 year-old, Sam. He spends his days building robots and submarines out of things he finds in the recycling bag. He draws dinosaurs for Sadie to color. He sits and reads amidst all levels of commotion, in his own little world. He sits in front of Miriam and lavishes her with kisses and tells her over and over again how she's the cutest baby in the whole world and that he loves her. He growls at Sadie and comes at her with T-Rex claws until she shrieks. He spouts facts about planets and dinosaurs and volcanoes. He has a memory that astounds me. He has paper airplane battles with his father and sits close as I read to him. He is bright and sometimes intense. He prefers being inside and yet is fascinated by the world through books.
My 3 1/2 year-old, Sadie. She's just learned to stop sucking her thumb. She's sweet and soft-voiced and a lover of clothes. She spends hours at the bench in the kitchen, lining up her plastic animals. There, she names them and plays out conversations and discussions which often end with them calling for their Mommy and their Mommy saying, "In a minute...." She sidles up to me and says, "Momma, you a sweetie-pie" or "Momma, you save the day." She makes my heart melt. She fetches her stool from the bathroom sink, brings it to the counter and helps stir or mash or run the mixer. She tells me, "Good job, Momma!" when I'm able to reach something high up. She makes Miriam laugh like none of us can. She puts her head down at Miriam's feet and lets her kick her, all the while giggling her infectious giggle. Miriam follows suit. Two sisters.
My 5 month-old, Miriam. She sleeps with her little hands up beside her head, sometimes even tucking them underneath. She adores faces and readily smiles back. She lays on the floor, rolling from side to side to get better views of her brother and sister as they entertain her or sit at the table to draw. From her swing, she watches me move about the kitchen, seemingly never taking her eyes off me. Whenever I turn around, I meet her gaze and she smiles. Oh, how I love this little person. While she nurses, she cranes her head slightly to meet my eyes, just checking to make sure I'm still there. Perched on my shoulder, she's always scanning the room trying to track the girl and the boy that are always roaming about. She nuzzles and buries her face in me and I swoon.
Occasionally, I imagine what an aerial-type view of our house from above would look like if you could see through the roof and floors. It's a good-sized house and yet so many times within the day, the four of us are within arm's length of each other. It saddens me to think that one day we will be all spread out through the house. The other three having become independent, not requiring the contact they do now.
Maybe it's better we don't remember exactly how things were. This way maybe we won't be quite so sad and miss those times quite so much.