Because Little Moments Matter to Me

5:00 a.m. - Alarm sounds. Familiar chords of "Who Needs Sleep?" by BNL strum us awake. Yes. I programmed the iPod to wake us that way. I thought I was clever. Now I hate that song.

6:15 a.m. - Larry gathers his pager, travel mug, adds another pen to the white coat pocket, doles out hugs to the kids. I confirm that the shift is just 7:00 to 7:00. He'll be home by 8:00 or 9:00 tonight, right? Not quite, he says. It is 7 to 7, as in 7 a.m. to 7 a.m. And he might be home by noon tomorrow. Not even coffee can help me now.

7:30 a.m. - Dani has unearthed some old, too-small slippers, and she insists on wearing them. She crinkles up her toes, finds a way to make it work. She brings me a Fancy Nancy book from the library, tells me she needs me to read "Pancy Pancy" after she finds some sun glasses to wear. Because "Pancy Pancy yikes sungwasses".

The morning brings a mixed bag of chores and play. A fort of disastrous proportions is built and destroyed. Dani is of course the culprit, and Caed, the victim. I endure an inordinate amount of whining and tears of insufficient cause before I lose my resolve (though not my cool--that would come later). I resort to a new DVD from the library to entertain them so I can read and drink my reheated cup of coffee in peace.

Noon - The kids are settled in with and showing off for the babysitter, and I pull out of the driveway all by myself. Five minutes into my 50 minute drive, I realize I do not have to listen to "Mouse in my Toolbox." I turn off the music and listen to myself think.

I spend the afternoon gorging on flatbread and brownies and adult conversation with friends old and new, writers all. We admit blogging is bizarre, and by default, so are we. But we sit there in real life, already connected by words, as if we have seen each other's faces many times before today.

4:00 p.m. - I am back home just in time to take the kids to a birthday party for a 3 year old friend. They cry when I make them take their helmets off. Well, Caed teared up and whined. Dani full-on screamed. They apparently wanted a chance to ride bikes in the bitter cold air, and hadn't had it yet. And here I came to interrupt them and take them to a party. It just wasn't fair! Wait. WHAT?!?

4:10 p.m. - After the babysitter is dropped off, I lecture them ad nauseam about gratitude. I require them to find five things they are thankful for at the party.

6:15 - 9:00 p.m. - We leave the party, recite our five thankful thoughts, pick up Thai food for Larry (a story of its own), drive to the hospital to say hello and drop it off, drive home, and take a gray-hair-inducing hour to finally settle into bed.

5:00 a.m. (okay, 6:00 a.m. with daylight savings) - Caed crawls into bed with me and proceeds to recount a half dozen dreams he had last night. All I can muster is an "Ok, go back to sleep now."

It's now 12:30 p.m. on Sunday, and Larry is still not home. Dani sits beside me enjoying her after-lunch lollipop, a favor from last night's party. Caed sits beside her, plowing through his math activity book, on a quest for a hundred stickers.

And I sit here to write it all down. Because, while it would bore most people to tears, it makes me feel better, this business of writing down my life. It should be obvious by now that I do not write to entertain or to impress.

I write so I won't forget.
I write because the little moments matter to me, because they add up to my life.
I write to talk myself into truth when I'm weary.
I write so the good will win. Because I figure the good will beat out the bad by a wide margin if I give it twice the air time.
But on the simplest level, I write because it makes me feel better. I write for me.


Why do you write (if you do)?
What small little moments of the past few days do you want to remember?

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