Without the Camera

Pushing the double stroller behind two wobbling, training-wheeled bikes, shadows long and purple and pedaling, we make our way around the corner. By the clock, we ought to be beginning bedtime routines, but the shortening days and crisp air of season change renew a sense of urgency to drink in every moment of sun September has to pour over us. We're going to visit Daddy at the store. 

Selah growls that she's mad she has to ride in the stroller "even though I'm not a baby." I tell her that once she gets some practice using the pedals on her princess bike and figures out the brakes instead of dragging the toes of her Crocs on the cement, then we'll talk about a real bike ride. She scowls dramatically, but nestles into the down throw I've tucked around her and her sister. It's the first day of cooler air; hoodies and cozy blankets are still novelty to relish in mid-September. I try to keep the littles from touching one another and squawking, try to keep the wheels of the stroller on the sidewalk while leaving enough room to one side for Eden to pass should she venture beyond me, and keep an eye on the boy, pedaling fast into the sun. His little legs rally for that last burst of frantic rotation before he kicks back on the brake and examines the cement behind him. "Mom! I made a mark!"

Derek accepted a job offer this week. The excitement in our home can't accurately be stated, as this career transition will be a move away from retail hours, commission-based income, working on holidays, any number of other things we've found increasingly challenging to incorporate into the family schedule we'd like to keep. While he interviewed for it, I blocked out thoughts of this possibility, the possibility of an 8-5 weekday-only salaried position. Self-preservation, I guess. I'm reflective now of how my days are different now than they will be in the very near future. Reflection is good. I ought to take more time for it... perhaps then my 15 minutes in the shower wouldn't be so packed-full of revelations to forget before my hair is dry. 

All this to say: I'm thankful now for what closing shifts have trained in me; namely, to show me that shying away from activity because it's work (or more work than it would be with another parent around) is a waste of resources. The evenings we threw the typical bedtime wind-down routine out the van window and drove off to the beach or Captain Sundae were worth the unpredictable dispositions that may have been part of the following day. The time we trekked down to visit Daddy at the store, even when he was with a customer and couldn't visit, cross-trained this momma. 

I'll take whatever training is offered.