"Uh-oh. Is someone getting upset in there?" I listened, and didn't hear anything else.
I had walked into the kitchen and was getting out a pot to boil some water in, to make my whole wheat mac and cheese. I looked down at my right index finger, whose nail was cleaner than the rest because Amanda had been sucking on it for so long.
I looked out the window at the clear, beautiful day. There was a lot going on outside in the world, while inside I was still in my nightgown at 12:50. It was wet on my shoulder where I'd had a baby drooling for a while. Now both girls were settled down in the living room with pacifiers, giving me a couple minute break.
Whenever I think about being saddled with a lot of babies, I think of Heath Ledger's wife in "Brokeback Mountain," the quintessential overworked young woman stuck at home with a ton of kids vying for her hip and arms. A young mom could look out my kitchen window and feel trapped, yearn to be out there experiencing life.
But me, I've been around. I've traveled the world, gotten two post-graduate degrees, had several great careers, owned my own art business, and settled down with the man of my dreams in a wonderful house with a beautiful furry cat. There is nothing that I want to do that I haven't already done.
Except get back to those girls in the living room.
What a wonderful, wonderful life this is.
Oops, someone's crying. Not me.