Because it's been a while since I've taken notes.
Winter is wearing on me, yet when I look outside the sun reflected on the four-foot piles of snow is dazzling, blinding with the light of a hot July day. It should be occasion for cheering one's spirits.
Oldest spent all summer long moaning for winter to come, and now that it has, she too bemoans its chill, its depth of snow, it's wind and ice, also the too-puffy coat, the too-many required layers. Middle follows suit and will not go outside alone. But yesterday they both were tempted outside for 15 minutes after the biggest snowfall of the year. When they disappeared from window's view I got worried. The snow was past Middle's waist in parts; she might be stuck, belly-button deep in snow between here and the neighbor's house. I donned jacket and boots, gloves, hat, and passed Oldest in the adjoining yard. She was on her way in, squealing over her foot, which had landed in snow after slipping out of her boot. Middle, however, was farther behind, on her way home from the neighbor girl's house, and trudging so slowly she might not have made it home till March. I grabbed a long red sled and waded out to Middle, instructing her to climb on, and then pulled, zigzagging over the neighbor's hilly, snow-flooded yard, my lungs aching from the cold and the extra effort of all that swimming in snow.
Today they have not even considered venturing out, but since finishing their school work have been playing with Barbies for hours in the basement.
Tiny and I, when the big girls are occupied, have a pretty predictable rhythm. I try to keep her entertained while cooking dinner, putting laundry away, sending emails and making phone calls. By mid-afternoon I want to take a nap with her, but I don't. There's too much I could lose track of by going to sleep. These early morning heated yoga classes I'm taking sure don't disperse the fog of sleep deprivation, but I'm plugging away at them anyway.
So that's it. And there is the Tiny now, rousing from sleep. I'll change her, feed her, maybe watch Oprah in closed captioning so as not to distract her. And I'll try not to fall asleep.