Hand Prints

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The vacation I (and teachers and students) worked so hard for is quickly coming to a close.  This week has been equal parts fulfilling and trying.  After the whole family recovered from the stomach bug and the weather decided to catch up to normal it has been wonderful.  No more puke, brings on a lot less whining and my kids are beginning to act like themselves.  There was a point (Tuesday afternoon) that I thought, how will I do this all summer?  Literally, how could this possibly work?

 Why have I heard "Mommy hold me" 10000000000000000000000 times before 10 am rolled around?  Why have I cleaned the same area 10000000000000000000000 times only to see it worse the next time?  Turns out half of that is just normal behavior (at least for my kids).  But also, we were all still sick, exhausted and cranky.  It was pouring rain and still cold and we were just getting our appetites back.

 I was going to throw in the towel that day until Wednesday rolled around.

I woke up to two smiling kids with appetites and a hunger for fun.  We had a great day.  It even included John's first trip to the dentist.  I hate to brag but... (famous words of my mother) they said he was one of the best patients they ever had (for someone his age..let's not get carried away).  I don't really get compliments on his behavior and it made me realize how good of a little boy he really is (or can be).  Heart = full.

I am enjoying a nice nap right now.  By "nap" I mean my kids are napping so I am cleaning, prepping, baking and now blogging.  Since we were sick a lot of things got pushed to the side.  Once we got better we got out of the house and out on the town (museums and libraries).

One of the things that has been bothering me is my windows.  I clean them all the time, yet everyday there are still yogurt prints, nose smooshes and hand prints.


So I have a confession:

Even though I windex the shit out of them (did I mention all the time?) I always (purposely) leave a couple hand prints.  There is this weird thought that goes through my mind when I clean them.  Those gross little sticky hand prints are evidence of my two perfect kids.  As long as they are still there I have proof of their being.  It's not like their crappy plastic toys that are strewn about EVERYWHERE, but it's literally them - where they have been, what they were looking at, what they had eaten recently, how big they are at this very moment - a gentle and quiet reminder of Lucy&John.
I guess when they are 15 I might not want their prints (on what in my mind is a new house with french doors, high ceilings and a sun-room) on my things, but for right now it's all I need.

What do you do to keep your fears at bay?

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