I held a robin in my hands this morning

The kids got up at 5:30 this morning.

5:30

AM

Am I glad I convinced my husband NOT to start watching Thor at 10pm?

Yes.

Oh Yes.

Our mornings start like they always do: I nurse the baby and get irritated when he decides it is time to talk and time to sleep. It didn't help that Naisa was ready to party when I went to get  Yonah.

Then everyone gets mad. Me, because I can't get more sleep. Naisa because she doesn't want to share her toys, Yonah because he doesn't get excacyly what he wants (oh the joys of communicating with a toddler).

The sun begins to rise and we open the curtains.

"Is it morning? Is it morning, Mom?"

YES. IT"S BEEN MORNING. YOU ARE SO VALIDATING, NAISA.

My sarcasm comes out a lot more with my Yes and No child.

As the morning goes, I get angry at adobe flash player for donating pop ups to my web browser and see to revise it with no luck.

The kids are still going strong. Singing and spinning around on the office chair.

I do a "dry run" on wedding hair.

I think I'll try again tomorrow. It's a little abstract.

I cannot find Naisa's new box of markers.

I give Naisa her birthday present from Anna. She enjoys the stamps. She uses the ink as a stamp (it's a circle!)


Then we hear a big thud on the window, and I see a feather float down.

A bird took a wrong turn, and in the morning light, perceived that our (very dirty window) was the entrance to greener pastures.

BAM!

I peer out the window to see if the bird is lying, dying on the porch. Instead I see a stunned robin. In my mind, I think it must be stunned and could go into shock, so out I go onto the porch. And then my assistants follow. and I pet the robin's back and it doesn't move. It's just breathing through it's beak and so I pick it up.

I sit down on the chair and wrap the hem of my shirt around it and make soothing noises (what can I say? I'm a mommy!) We sit for five minutes, and I comb through what I would do if it died, if it was injured, how would I care for it, or not, etc). And then it moves it's head, and i know the stunned period is over.

I open my fingers, and it flies away.

how precious it was

I'm sure that birds were created to survive crashes.

Then I dig Yonah out of the potting soil on the porch and send my reluctant three year old back inside.

And back to reality

the minute of calm of a strange life in my hands
a connection just for a second
disconnected from normal

There it was

Naisa is now politely smothering her elephant and duck in the cloth diaper pile. "Ok, see you in a couple minutes!"