The Boy who woke early

The past two days were spent enjoying family time. Sometimes, in the busy buzzing of every day goings on, I sometimes lose sight of the small things that contribute to my overall happiness and spiritual growth. As a reminder to myself of these small things, I've added an end section to each blog entry which includes what music I'm listening to as I type each entry and an important piece that begins "An 'I love my babies' moment" (LOL sometimes my hubby is my baby too). This piece is meant for me to acknowledge and remember the little things in life that make my family so great. Trust me, when you're up at midnight doing laundry because hubby told you at the last possible minute that he needed a certain uniform or piece of the uniform clean (my hubby is a soldier at Fort Bliss) - remembering these little moments really drives home the love. I also write it to give my readers a peak into my life and hey there dear reader, if you can relate, I'd love to read about it.

Most of today was spent at home lounging around in one area or another. AND IT WAS GREAT! Sometimes we tend to run around on the weekends because there are so many things the family wants to get done or visit that we end up rushing through the weekend. Today we chilled most of the day and that was a nice change.

What I'm listening to now: Doing Too Much by Paul DeAnda
An I love my babies moment: Friday morning I lay in bed later than usual . . . it must have been about 8:30 or 9:00. My daughter, Rain, was next to me in bed as she so often ends up if she wakes up in the middle of the night or earlier than me. My boy, Sunshine, was nudging me because he was up by himself and he just loves talking. So, I'm half out of it trying to keep up the conversation with him while trying to squeeze the last few drops of sleep out of my eyes. He decides since we're all in bed that he would like to tell me a bed-time story. "I'm gonna read this story to you Momma," he says. I mumble something like, "mmm hmm" and concentrate on stretching my back and legs awake. "Okay here we go," he continues in his best impersonation of me. I smile on the inside while trying to adjust my brain to actually focus on the world around. Now somewhere in the back of my mind I'm aware that he does have something in his hand so based on his words, I assume its a book. Turns out I assumed correctly. Next, he said something that really brought me to wakefulness with laughter. He said - so seriously. "Momma. um, this story . . . this story is called 'The Boy with the Apple in His Hand". As soon as he said that I instantly knew what he was talking about and couldn't help the laughter that followed. Even now, I chuckle.

Here's the book:

(Twilight by Stephenie Meyer)