Saturday Morning

There is no sleeping in. Athena wakes us up at 7:13 by crawling in between us. We attempt to sleep just ten more minutes, but Athena is awake and complaining that Daddy is "hahing" in her ear (breathing).

We snuggle just a minute longer and then hear the baby start to wake. Over the monitor I think his little cries sound like a squeaky door, Athena thinks he sounds like a cat that wants to come inside.

I go to John Patrick who breaks into a big smile when he sees me. I pick him up and kiss his soft head again and again. With a freshly diapered baby in my arms I peer inside the girls' room, Zoe is asleep on the floor, but stirring.

While I'm nursing the baby on the couch, Zoe walks into the room dragging three blankets behind her. "Mommy" she rasps and then coughs and coughs and coughs. She is no longer officially sick just can't get rid of the cough. "It's the Valley air" a woman at Target told me yesterday.

Zoe cuddles with us until Daddy lures her into the kitchen with a promise of cereal bar breakfast and milk. It's soccer today, so breakfast is quick and both girls are hurriedly dressed and out of the house with Daddy. It's a whirl of activity, and quite a bit of whining, then they close the door and the house is quiet.

I linger for a moment in my dressing gown with my coffee. Then get dressed with John Patrick smiling at me in the middle of my room trying to crawl towards and attempt to eat one of my flip flops. I throw an Irish sweater over John Patrick's jammies, put some Elmo socks on him and pour the rest of my coffee into a thermos. It's just starting to be cool here in the mornings, refreshing and crisp.

Drinking my coffee, driving to the vegetable pick up stand and listening to NPR while John Patrick coos in the backseat is one of my favorite moments of the week. Rick Steves tells me the difference between "Prov-OHN-cal" and "Prov-AHN-cal" to Parisians. Interesting.

We pick up the vegetables to lots of comments of "Oh how cute!" and "You've got your hands full" as I balance a full vegetable box on one arm and heavy baby in puppy jammies in the other.

On the way home I drive swiftly past the joggers and walkers on the bike path and feel guilty...one of these days that will be me. Pulling up onto our driveway, I find that John Patrick is fast asleep in his carseat. I gently take him out, peel off his funky sweater and transfer him into his crib.

I pour myself another cup of coffee, and write this, as I wait for the door to swing open with loud voices and running feet bringing stories of soccer victories along with fresh bagels to enjoy over our second breakfast of the day.