The broken laptop was the last straw for me tonight.
I had been wanting a laptop for a long time and was kindly given an older one a few weeks ago that did everything I needed it to. I could read my email and friend’s blogs as I settled in for bed, or write in my journal or look up “sandboxes” on Craigslist. It was perfect!
I walked into my bedroom tonight and Kai said, “look Mommy!” and pointed to the laptop with several buttons from the keyboard scattered around the room.
I smoldered at the dinner table while I thought about the computer. I also thought about the pen that Kai had snapped in half yesterday, dumping half of the ink on my carpet and the other half on my favorite quilt.
I could not get the kids in bed fast enough and then I aggressively cleaned my kitchen in a huff. It didn’t make me feel better.
I didn’t have anything in mind to play so I reached into one of my bags stuffed with music and pulled out a book. I threw it up on the piano and flipped it open to one of the songs I was familiar with. As I started to play I felt the tension leaving, but the sadness building. It took me a minute to realize that I was playing a song that I played years ago at the funeral for a baby girl. The mother was the little sister of a friend of mine and it was her second child and her second funeral as a mother. It was also the last child they would have because of their fear of burying another baby. I don’t remember all of the details, but because of an incompatibility genetically, their chances of having a baby that did not get terminally sick were very low. I remember keeping it together as I viewed their beautiful baby girl in her coffin, as I played “Love One Another” as the family entered the chapel, as I played “In the Arms of His Love” as a special number, and as I played, “Families Can Be Together Forever” as the coffin was carried to the hearse. As soon as the chapel doors shut behind the last family member I collapsed into tears.
I went straight home and scooped up my three babies and smothered them in kisses.
I also smothered Kai in kisses tonight as I went to check on him a couple of hours after putting him to bed. He had awakened and Lincoln had just finished reading to him. He was finally drowsy again and starting to drift off to sleep. He gave me a tired half-smile and wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.
“I love you Kai,” I said.
“Yuh you too,” he softly replied.
I thank a loving Heavenly Father for guiding me to pull out my old piano book tonight so that I could be reminded of the blessings in my life. Carpet, quilts, and computers are temporary. I would give them all up in a heartbeat for the promise of endless more nights of hugs, kisses, and “I yuh you too"’s.
Posted on August 2nd, 2010 by whim
Filed under: Personal