Dear Reader:

Well, I'm back.  Sooner than I expected.  But mostly because I feel like I need to transcribe a little of this amazing conversation that I just had at bedtime, in a darkened room, sitting by the bedside of my boy.   Earlier in the evening, he had a ridiculously overblown tantrum while refusing to do anything to get ready for bed.   So, I ignored him and spent some good time reading with my girl and told him that he was losing some privileges on the morrow, etc., etc.   Then, there was a pillow thrown and a lamp knocked off the bedside table and a shattered lightbulb.   It wasn't pretty.  The vacuum came out.   A debilitating "growing pain" in his leg developed.  I became the "worst mom in the world."   Sigh.

So, I sat by him while he wound down, decided to give him a warm lavender scented bath, and rubbed his back.  Then he said - in a really small voice - "I'm really sorry, Mommy."  Of course that melted my heart.   I hugged him and said thank you.   He said - "I was angry.  I didn't mean those words I said.   I felt bad when I said them.  I love you more than anyone.   I know you love me more than anyone - except Lucy - we're equal!"  And then this ensued:

C:  I think that people know that we love each other the most that anyone could.

L:  How do you think they know?

C:  They can see it in our smiles when we look at each other.

L:  Yes, they probably can.  They probably say - Hey, look at those two!   Isn't that ridiculous HOW MUCH they love each other?

C:  If they say that, Mommy, they don't really know much about love, do they?   And, that's sad.

L:  Yes.  Some people don't know that much about love.   And, it is sad.   Even I'm still learning.  And you are, too.

C:  Yes, I think we have a love machine inside of us, and we have to give away our little love pieces to make more love pieces.   If you don't give away those love pieces, the love will die.   I give mine away to you all the time.   I make a gazillion pieces a day.  But, I have to keep one of those pieces for myself or I can't keep making the other pieces.

L:  (overwhelmed, can't talk)

C:  Mommy, are you crying a little?

L:  Yes, sometimes the love pieces from you make me cry because I feel lucky to have them.

C:  Me, too.  I'm going to hug you!

L:  I love those hugs.  Thank you.

C:  I think everyone should always hug.   You know how you told me that criminals act bad because they didn't have enough love from their families or didn't have any families at all?

L:  Yes, I remember.

C:  I think we should take the criminals out of jail and give them families who love them.   Everybody should have a family like ours.

L:  (again, overwhelmed)

C:  Mommy, this was a good talk.  I wish we could have more of these talks.   Will you write that down when you get downstairs to remind yourself?   And, don't forget while you are working on your computer.

L:  I will, Carter.  I love you.  Goodnight, sweet boy.

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You see why I had to write this down, don't you, dear reader?   I mean...

And, here:

Yes.  It has been a rough summer for me, personally.  But, just when I am about to lose heart, something like this happens and I feel revived.  I feel lucky.   I feel grateful.   I feel joy.   

These two are keepers.  They keep my love machine up and running at high capacity.   

They also make me more appreciative of the overwhelming beauty of the world, which coexists right alongside all of the pain and strife and ugliness.   So, I drove 2 hours one way just so I could stand here:

And, I then thought about this Van Gogh painting:

And, really, what else is there to say.  Life is sweet.   I'll get back to complaining about it at some point, I am sure.  But, not tonight.  Tonight life feels sweet and magical and better than I expected it to be.   

Love to you, my dear reader!

Thanks for reading.