January 22, 2015


He bounds down the stairs every morning the minute he hears the coffee maker come on and leaps right into my arms.  His little cheeks are soft on my cheeks and his sweaty little hands wrapped around my neck hold as tight as they can.  "I love you so so much, Mommy."  And then I melt.  Every single morning.

Noah is my my morning person.  Sadie could sleep all day long if I'd let her and has always been that way- even as a tiny baby.  Miles and Scarlett wake up early but they aren't always happy about it and can't seem to understand that it's okay to sleep a little later if it makes them feel better.  They are always afraid of missing out on something. But Noah?  He pops up at 6:20 every day, gets dressed and waits.  His room is directly on top of the kitchen and as soon as he hears the first sputters of the coffee maker he knows it's his cue for "Noah time".  

This little tradition started at the beginning of this school year.  Noah just needs a little extra time in the mornings with mom before the chaos of the day starts.  It quickly became the favorite part of my day.  He eats his breakfast at the counter while I pack the school lunches.  He talks to me about what he read the night before.  We contemplate the really hard questions of life like what would happen if humans had as many eyeballs as flies or what if the Earth jumped it's orbit and it suddenly got very hot or cold.  My normally quiet kid is all chatter in the mornings.  In a house full of loudness, I think sometimes it hard for him to find his voice so it's such a gift to hear all his words.

Sometimes he helps me with the lunches.  Sometimes we hurry up and get them packed so there's time for him to just sit in my lap before we have to wake the others up for school.  In those moments, I'm more aware of time passing than any other time.  I wonder how many more days/weeks/years I have where my little one wants to be with me so intentionally.  I'm so conscious of time passing and I tell myself daily to hold him just a bit closer because what if? 

I love that he carves out that time for me.  While I'm waking the other kids up, he brushes his teeth and puts his shoes on.  Then he wraps himself up tightly in a blanket like a burrito and crawls up in a corner with his kindle and the blanket over his head until it's time to go to school.  It's a sensory thing- but he's figured out that's what he needs.  During the endless, "Eat your breakfast!  Brush your teeth!  Put your lunch in your backpack!" stream of orders that go out once all the kids are awake, he knows he needs to retreat and he's figured out his own way to handle it.  I used to wonder if Noah would ever be able to handle loud and chaos and just life in general- and he's doing it.  He's blazing his own path and meeting his own needs and it's so gratifying to watch him figure out how to navigate. 

When it's time to get in the car for school, I hug them all before Daddy loads them up.  The rest of the kids just want a quick hug and a "have a good day" as they head out. They run to the car with excitement because they love school so much. But Noah always wants to walk out the door last.  He hugs longer and tighter and he tells me that he'll miss me while he's at school.  He flashes me his huge toothless grin and grabs his backpack and walks out the door ready to conquer the world.

And conquer it he will. 

From the other night: "Mom, we've been studying about so many things at school, like the Underground Railroad and Harriet Tubman and slavery. And it's got me thinking. Can you help me find all our books about it? And while we're looking for books, can you also order me some on women's rights?"  And then I died happy. 

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