I love my mornings. Well, okay, so I'm trying to reach a bit far here and write something that makes me (and you) feel all fuzzy and warm inside. But the mornings here are different than any other part of my day.
Take, for instance, this morning:
As I was rolling over to silence the alarm, Mak was on her knees, peeking at me through her crib rails with that adorable cool, you're finally awake to talk to me smile of hers. And I *love* that smile. In fact, I wish that everyone in the entire world was as happy to greet a new day as Mak.
Not long after that Grace awoke. She was climbing out of bed as I walked in with Mak's bottle. "Are you getting back in bed, mama," she asked. And her voice is so tiny in the mornings. It never matters that in a few hours she will come home from pre-school, acting as if there's a teenager trapped inside her four-year-old frame; she's always tiny in the mornings. I could tell by the smallness in her voice that this morning would have been one of those Put Mak in your bed, mama, and let's cuddle mornings. And those are my favorite kind of mornings.
Da Man even woke up with us this morning for some unknown and surprising reason. He wasn't agitated or gruff. He seemed to have felt it too, the peace that was hugging us as we started our day.
It was one of those mornings that made me wish I could just lie there in bed, surrounded by my girls and all that love. It was one of those mornings that the room would have been filled with that pink glow that circles around us once in a while. I love those pink mornings. The pink shade of peace and love. The pink that lets me know that everything's right in my world.
Then I was told that when Da Man came home from work, the baby woke up and began asking, "Dat?" And then, of course, I was told that when he turned his head in my direction to answer her question all he saw was my boob peeking out from under the quilt and my I can't believe you would go to bed with that naturally curly mess of yours wet hair eating my pillow.
But it didn't matter. Because, with the exception that it was my big boob peeking out from under the quilt, it was still a small and pink morning.