In Forty Eight Hours

In forty eight hours I

watched one Joan Crawford movie

read 160 pages of a new library book

stayed awake til four a.m. on Saturday night/Sunday morning

made nine cheese enchiladas

changed into warm clothes twice

lit four candles on the coffee table

washed two comforters

bounced a ball with Scout

knit four lace repeats on my February Lady Sweater

cleaned up five milk and water spills

cleared the DVR queue to 32%

Stitch and Bitch’d with friends for 4 1/2 hours Friday night

napped for a total of 5 1/2 hours over the span of the weekend

paid $100 for our cable bill

ate three Caramello bunnies and two Cadbury eggs

sewed two handbags

read one children’s book

and then in between one of these moments I found myself standing at the foot of the bed, silently watching Scout nap. I don’t remember walking in the room. But there she was, hands clasped together as if in prayer. Light breathing from her slightly opened mouth. Her brow furrowed as if in deep thought. Or maybe deep dreaming. Innocence. Reprieve. I like it best when I watch her sleep. In one moment she is still a baby. Being a toddler is so far in the future. In another moment I realize there will be a time when I won’t be able to watch her sleep. To consume her every breath. To touch the line of her chubby cheeks. To smell the Johnson’s baby shampoo in her mess of curls. To hold her. To protect her.


I must remember to pause for these moments, no matter how many hours pass.


3 thoughts on “In Forty Eight Hours

  1. I adore your blog so much. The way you write is poetic and the things you notice, so beautiful. I’m wishing I’d been with you for much of the last 48 hours — specifically the part about the stitch n’ bitch and the cadbury creme eggs (my FAVORITE things on Earth!)

  2. Those kids take your breath away, right? Dang. It is frightening sometimes. And wonderful, and sad, and powerful.

    She is a darling! Her dark curls and pacifier remind me of Neva. We obviously make gorgeous girls. 🙂

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