We were going to dye the eggs on Wednesday, not a day before, not a day after (my Anna likes to know these things).
Little did I know, I'd wake up in the middle of the night with one of my horrible migraines; the kind that leave me lying in a heap in the middle of the floor; nauseous; pillows covering my head for fear of a drop of light seeping in; willing myself to pass out with the hopes of coming to with the pain gone.
The big kids helped with Kate that morning, made breakfast, played quietly, and by the afternoon I was just left with the lingering fog of pain; gone just enough to leave me functioning and on my feet, but not enough to make a Pinterest-worthy, glittery, stickery, Kool-aid-colored craft.
I boiled the eggs and got out the Paas egg kit that I had bought "just in case" and we gathered around the table. No expectations other than to get those eggs as bright and colorful and cheery as possible.
I sat back and watched. I listened to them decide what colors they would choose; how long to leave the eggs in for. They asked me a few questions, but mostly I just listened. We talked. We talked about plans and friends and they said I'm glad you're feeling better, mama. I didn't care if they spilled or if the eggs would come out perfect or if there were drips of dye on their shirts.
And those eggs? Well, they came out beautiful. Bright, bold, beautiful, good eggs. A little cracked, but not broken...a little like all of us.
They're growing up. Right in front of me, these kids are growing up, and it's happening fast. Really fast.
I catch glimpses of what it may be like in a few years, with all of us sitting around the kitchen table talking about friends and school; them talking, me listening. I hope they still ask me questions, ask for my opinions, but mostly, I just hope they'll be able to love each other like they do now.
These four little creatures with a sibling bond that can't be broken. Yes, sometimes they fight, and they scream at each other, and they say hurtful things that you say when brothers and sisters fight. Sometimes, there are cracks. Sometimes, we're all a little cracked, but that doesn't mean we're broken.
