Storms, Butter, and Curls

I laughed out loud once and cried twice today.


I laughed when the kids and were caught in a downpour at the park. There was a rumble of thunder and suddenly one raindrop turned into a shower--a million huge plops that splattered and soaked us. What else could I do? I laughed.


I cried when I came down after putting laundry away to find that Baby C had finger-painted with butter on my kitchen floor. It was just such a big mess. What else could I do? I cried. And then I cleaned it up with lots of hot, soapy water.


And when I sat at the computer this evening, surrounded by the familiar sounds of evening (Madi practicing piano, Baby C giggling, and T-man protesting his dinner dish job), I read my dear friend's blog about her daughter's leukemia. What else could I do? I cried. I cried for my amazingly couragous friend who is facing a mother's worst fear. I cried for her dear daughter and all her pain and suffering. I cried for her thick brown curls that will soon be gone.


And when Baby C came to me with arms outstretched, wanting to be picked up, instead of sending her back to Dad or shooing her away to play with her blocks, I let her join my on lap. And I held her close.


What else could I do?