Musings on Eliza

Tonight did not run according to plan. It wasn't a bad night. But when Mark walked in the door at the end of the day, I had just barely succeeded in dragging Gabriella into the kitchen to begin the dreaded Dishes Duty, so that I could then begin preparations for the Supper Hour. Mark needed to eat and go again, as it was City Council tonight, so timing was crucial, and my timing was off.

But he smiled and kissed me, and scooped up the George who was being needy and clingy, and went off into the house to hang out with kids. City Council never happened. Mark stayed, which wasn't what we'd planned. The kids wallowed on him happily, an element often missing from our lives of late. We had fajitas for dinner - also not part of the plan. We stayed up late (-er than 9 p.m.) reading in our new family book (Pillage by Obert Skye, if you are looking for a new, good read). And after scriptures and prayers and stories, everyone said good-night and wandered out of the living room to their various beds. Except Eliza. She stood by me and whispered in my ear, "I'm still hungry, Mommy."


Hmmmm. Dinner was all tidied up and put away. Not a lot of snacky stuff in the house, as we are gearing up for Thanksgiving. I didn't' particularly want to get up and go to the kitchen to find a solution, as Yvette was asleep on me. What could I give her that she could get herself?? She already had an idea: "Can I have just one cracker?" Sounded like a livable solution. I granted permission.

And as I sat in the living room, pondering the best way to transport Yvette to her bed, I looked up and could see my brown-eyed 'Liza sitting on the footstool in the kitchen, eating her cracker(s). I was struck by how small she looked. I mean, she really is small, even for her age. I've always called her my Scrawny Tawney 'Liza, although she has protested this nickname of late. I found myself turning to see her better. I watched as she played airplane with her cracker, circling it around for landing in her mouth, and then chewing with exaggerated emphasis. (I know she's not the only imaginative child in the world, but she is certainly the most quirky one in my family.) I found myself trying to memorize that moment. She will not always be my Scrawny Tawney. She will not always be uninhibited in her expressions and goofiness. She will not always be that small girl, curled up on the kitchen footstool. Some moments you can't save with a camera. I want to save this one in my heart.

OK, but I have to go to bed now. Seminary tomorrow, and the alarm clock is unforgiving. G'night.