This is me. Eating by myself at 10 PM. Every one of these stripes tomatoes toped with pesto is getting my full attention. You see, Dave and I grew these tomatoes and grew all of the basil for the pesto. OK, Dave really grew it and I wanter outside to water if I can manage it without dying from heat stroke. He has the green thumb.
The house is quiet because the galloping herd has all fallen asleep.
Today, I actually managed to get both of the littles to take a na and I took that time to prep a beautiful dinner. I was excited about it… you all know how much I love good food. It was either dinner or do the laundry and DUH. We know which of those won out. Ahi seared tuna with rice and carrot/ginger soup with Ancho chiles just for a good kick in the seat of the pants.
Fast forward to dinner time. Dave walks in right before dinner, which is pretty early for him. My inner Julia Childs claps her hands and we all sit down to dinner. The boys gobble a few bites of food and then all three of them get dup and run to the back yard. They run out to the pool and jump in. I’m left with the baby who is starting to throw a fit and partially eaten dinner in front of me.
I sigh and pull the baby out of his high chair and take him upstairs to start the bath and bedtime process. I see the Legos scattered all over the floor that either they or I have picked up no less than 10 times today. And they’re out of their basket again.
After I put the baby down, the boys come pounding upstairs at some point after it was well beyond dark. They’re laughing like hyenas dripping water all over the carpet and giving me crazy eyes as is normal this time of night. This includes Dave. He showers them off. They al run downstairs to finish their dinner and eat “bussert” as Josh calls it.
Dave and I pitch in to finish the bedtime insanity and I turn around to head downstairs. I see Dave lie down on Sammy’s bed, too exhausted to do anything else. All three are asleep within a matter of minutes.
I go own to the kitchen and start the cleanup process. I smile as I notice there weren’t many leftovers.
I spy those delicious tomatoes and slice into them. In the quiet of the evening, God points me to the significance of what is in front of me.
“You are growing tomatoes,” He says. “I am growing you.”
“I am growing you and stretching you in ways you could never possibly imagine.”
For a hot second, I was sad about my dinner that went largely unrecognized, but I was also completely satisfied to have a husband and two little boys who had the time of their lives this evening just doing life and being together.
I decided to give thanks… for many things.
But most of all… the silence.
An American humorist, writer and author. When boiling down the chicken soup of life, she finds those golden, fried nuggets of truth & writes them long after the kids go to bed.
