Tonight, as I carried each one of my exhausted babies up the stairs to their bedrooms, I thought over the day. One thing stuck out to me, the word celebration. Today was a celebration of family. There was no party, no decorations, nothing spectacular or particularly memorable, but a cluster of little things that mattered. One of my friends said to me, on facebook:
“i love how you celebrate everything. it makes my heart happy!”
We did celebrate everything today.
Ava rolled over all by herself today, so we made cupcakes to celebrate! As we were making them, Sarah begged to help. Since all the ingredients were mixed in, Sarah put in the one ingredient I forgot. She sprinkled “Love” into the cupcakes. I know it sounds corny in print, but it was the most adorable thing to see my four year old, on her tiptoes to reach over the counter, sprinkling “Love” into each cupcake. She was so proud of herself. She declared them extra tasty too. She and Emma took turns making the icing, stirring, pouring, stirring, pouring, until it was just right, and then topped each cupcake with a sticky spoon in sticky little hands.
Emma and I enjoyed a sweet moment while watching the little mermaid, dancing together to “Under The Sea.” I will not forget the sparkle in those blue eyes while she hugged me tight saying “Dance with me Mommy, dance with me!”
Then I carried Sarah up the stairs, through the dark hall, and into her bedroom, I sat down on her bed. I just couldn’t put her down yet. Holding that sleeping child was a precious moment I cherished. How soon it will be when I won’t have that chance anymore to hold her in my arms like I did when she was a baby. I celebrated her growing up, and I celebrated all those little moments when she was a baby, holding her tight, then I tucked her under her covers, soft and sound, and heard her sigh.
I carried Ava up next, kissed her chubby cheeks, her chubby hands, her chubby toes, and her soft little head, and put her to bed. How soon will she be four, like Sarah?
Last but not least, Emma, still going strong, climbed up the stairs before me, tutu crinoline bouncing with each step of those chubby legs of hers. she crawled into bed, smiled lazily, and asked for her favorite hymn. We sang “It Is Well With My Soul” together, and I marveled at how she knows EVERY word of it.
It is bittersweet that sometimes it takes a loss to remind you of what you have to celebrate.
I am so blessed.