It is 11:24 PM and it's been a hell of a day. I'm just sitting down to write my blog. The whole day seems like it started out with blue eyes peeking through my door this morning and nothing has been right since then.
I actually have no kids of my own. I just borrow a bunch of them. There are two that my husband brought from his previous marriage. Then there are four others from two different high school friends. Finally, there are three more from a college friend. When people ask me if I have kids, I always tell them anywhere from two to nine. It just depends on the day.
Now, things are different, everyone is in some sort of school. From preschool to high school. These days, I tend to plan my time around work. I'm trying to save a company, create another company and move a third one forward. That is, between eating bon bons and watching telenovelas.
What's that saying about the best laid plans?
I tend to stay up late. My husband gets up early and does the morning shift with the kids and I wake up around 8. I start my day slow because I find that if I don't jump right into computer work, I can usually make it all day without a migraine. So, here I am this morning, planning out my day via the old fashioned pen and paper and...
Very timid voice says, "Amimi? (that's pronounced Ah-mee-mee)
I say, "Yeeeeeeeeeeees?"
Very timid voice says. "Can I come sit with you and watch cheesy Christmas movies?"
And this was the beginning of my own personal shadow all day long. This sick, home from school, thirteen year old child somehow morphed into a toddler underfoot today. If was on the computer, she had her head in front of it (literally.) If I went downstairs, she went downstairs. If I sat in the kitchen, she sat in the kitchen. There was A LOT of whining. All. Day. Long.
And while I'm really grateful for the almost peace and quiet that I am currently experiencing, (there is a big man snoring loudly next to me,) I can't deny that I love it that she loves me so much. I love spending time with her, teaching her things and being annoyed that she is so much better than me at any craft I try. I love hearing (most of) her stories and knowing that she will confide in me. I love knowing that she thinks I'm safe and loves snuggling up and tucking in.
I'm not quite sure how to tie this all up in a neat ribbon, but I think I'm trying to say that I just love being loved by her and loving her back.