Any Way You Slice It

Like everyone else in America, we worked hard today, Scott getting up at 2:30 AM to shop, the rest of us cleaning and Christmasifying our home. Scott drove from one end of the valley to the other, picking up and dropping off furniture. I don't know anyone who doesn't have a sore back and tired feet. So when all the kids were finally either in their beds or in their seats on Row H at Lexie's Ballet West Nutcracker performance, I had a clean, quiet kitchen to cook in. Heaven! But...kids have radar for when moms are about to breathe a sigh of relief. It's like a warning light goes off in their heads. "Mom relaxing! Red alert! Red alert! Do NOT let this happen!"

Cute little Ari, sneaking out of bed and peeking around the corner, gasped with delight when she saw me making Jell-o, so I let her help. I thought maybe making Jell-o with Araceli would be a more valuable experience than hurrying and making it myself. I knew I was right when Ari said carefully and with pride, "I am going to tell stories to my children about this. My very first time cutting an apple!"

Araceli is such an emotional child. It doesn't take much to set her off, to make her angry or frustrated or enraged. I forget that it doesn't take much to make her happy, either. A few relaxed minutes at the end of a busy day can buy a full measure of tranquility, happiness and comfort for Ari to lay her head down on at night. I have to remember that more often. What I offer as a mother, I want it to sustain and comfort, and to last. A lot of what I offer doesn't. Years from now, I don't think Araceli will remember the very first time she cut an apple, but she is happy tonight. We all are.