Morning. Slept in accidentally, but enjoyed it immensely. The best part was having coffee on the patio with my husband and waking up to the day slowly, while the kids were still fast asleep. Everything seemed light and fresh, happy and unhurried as if Sunday morning was dancing a waltz with us. Even the oranges we laid out for breakfast tasted extra sweet.
Noon. Laughter temporarily interrupted by a work text. It'll have to wait. Tomorrow comes all too soon and the worries of Monday are inevitable, but not on our Sunday. The children joke, laugh, sing and tease. My husband squeezes my hand. Wade reads the lunch menu to me. I think about him and Sommer, barely out of diapers when we first met. I squeeze back.
Lemon meringue pie. Nan and I carefully read the recipe, cutting the sugar in half, mixing, and measuring. It's been measuring and mixing for a long time, but today things are smooth. Maybe today she won't think of everything she's been told about me; I don't think about that standing shoulder to shoulder cooking with my daughter.
"Good night, we love you" we say and turn the car around to fetch the girls. "Hi girlies, we missed you" we say as hugs and kisses come flying. It's not a typical family and it isn't always perfect, but it's ours and we wouldn't change a thing.
"When are you and Wayne having kids?" It was asked of us just the other night and we smiled as we answered. I think about that question, posed all too often, innocent, but loaded. Then I consider all the conversations we've had about the possibility. But...we have kids, eight of them. We may not be able to sit and share stories about labor, teething, or learning to ride a bike, but we have plenty of others. Sharing a biological child is not validation for our marriage. "Wayne and I have kids," I answer. We know enough about growing up in blended families to be sure that good parents are not made of mutual DNA.
Evening. The girls want a sliver of pie before bed, but settle for sleep instead. They had a great weekend, we did too. Everyone's home now and settled in for the night. "Would you have it any other way?" and we think of the struggles but agree, "No." How else could we realize how lucky we are to have one another?