I was sitting in the worship service this morning, between segments of the service, thinking about how happy I am and how it is axiomatic that when I'm happy, I don't write in my journal. I guess I don't write in my blog either, unless I've got something funny to report or something to kvetch about. Afterward I thought about writing this blog because, for once in my life, at this very moment, I am content. I am even joyous, which is a word that I don't use for myself often. It is a good place to be.
Then we got home and I decided to torture the children and, although I was still content and even laughing with great hilarity, I was certainly no longer quiet. Here's the thing:
The Big Girls and I have waist-length hair. As you might imagine, when we brush hair, we end up with a lot in the brush. After I brushed my hair this morning, I pulled the hair out of the brush, rolled it into a tidy little oval (it looked rather like an unmatted owl pellet) and, called off to something else, left it on the table. When we got back from services, there it sat, looking for all the world like a mouse.
Understand this: I loathe mice. Can't stand them at all. The children should have remember this and less screaming would have taken place.
I picked up the hairball mouse and cupped it in my two hands, then told whatever children were around (Sarah and David, I think), "Look, a mouse!" Sarah figured it out right away but David looked and looked. I jiggled the "mouse" with my pinky so it would look like it was moving and David was totally watching it. Then I snapped my hands shut and said, "Smash the mouse!"
The shrieking could be heard next door, I am sure.
I showed Dave that it was a hairball, not really a mouse and he laughed and laughed, that really satisfying toddler laugh that gets way down in your belly. So I proceeded to show the rest of the children the mouse, scaring them in turn. All seemed to think it a laugh riot and I was chalking up a rare success to being a "fun mom" when I realized that Keziah actually thought I had a mouse in my hand and was mangling it and dangling it in front of her. It took quite some time to get her to realize that it was just hair, but it sure wasn't fun for her...poor baby! So one day, the children may remember this rare instance of fun-with-Mom and Keziah will be hailing back to the time when Mom gave her nightmares by picking up a "mouse".
I told you that quiet joy wouldn't last. I wouldn't trade the fun and belly laughs for anything, though.