Best day of my life…

My 4 year old wants to be 5 so bad that he’s convinced himself that he is 5. His birthday is still nearly weeks away but it’s soon.

The other day after being asked 173 times I told him that we will make cupcakes again soon. He told me off and said “Don’t say soon. When you say that you mean not for a long time”.

He doesn’t understand the word tomorrow and prefers to use the term “next day”.

The concept of time seems to go over his head, or around his legs or something similar.

But today I heard him say that it was “the best day of his life”.

This is the third time this year that he has commented that he’s had the best day of his life.

The first was when he was having a mud fight with his 6 year old brother in his undies.

The second time was his first day at the snow. Up and down the tiny man made slope he went with his toboggan.

And today he was blowing bubbles outside in the sunshine with his brother before they abandoned that idea and turned it into a massive water fight.

There seems to be an outdoors with his brother theme.

There is also an acknowledgement of the fact that he is having a wonderful time.

I don’t think we as adults do that enough.

Maybe we’re too busy worrying about the next thing we need to do or how to wash the mud off the kids.

Maybe it’s when we take pictures and post them to Instagram with 🙂 hashtags.

And maybe it’s hearing our kids say that they’re having the “best day ever”.

Fog and other lovely things…

The fog was thick when I woke today and I didn’t wake all that early.

The fog waited for me to make my coffee and breakfast, check Instagram (to see if anyone else had noticed the fog) and was still there thick and proud around 8:30 as I ate and supped.

It was beautiful.

Fog is beautiful.

(And not just in amateur Instagram pics.)

It holds secrets and great power.

It delays planes and hides things that we know are there.

It faded this morning into the sky giving the illusion of the clouds kissing the ground.

Tonight my husband is going away for work. For the rest of the week.

And I’m not worried about it.

My brain has been tongue kissing fog for the best of a year now. I couldn’t see clearly. I couldn’t see around it. I couldn’t fathom how I was going to keep coping.

I dreaded my husband being away last year. I would wake up ridiculously early. Get ready for work. Drop one son at before school care and the other at Childcare just after 7am.

Then I would go and work with children all day, putting on my happy face in a not entirely friendly environment then pick up the boys, listen to their tired afternoon antics, feed them, bathe them and then… try and get them to sleep.

I would be fearful of 7:30 all day. Bed time.

I hated that he would still be awake at 8:30. Fighting me.

Sometimes 2 hours later at 9:30 I would give up and turn off all the lights and hide, crying quietly while hoping that he would get bored and go to sleep.

But not tonight.

Tonight I’m going to patiently snuggle that no so little 4 year old and listen to his stalling and let him say what he needs to say and let him voice his wonderful thoughts. Then I’m going to watch him go to sleep with a smile on my face.

And then I’ll eat some chocolate in bed as a reward for feeling so damn good.

The brain fog has lifted and the real meteorological fog delights me.

I’m winning.