After a few hours of trying to get Miss Thing to eat something other that croutons on Thanksgiving, we gave in and gave up and did one of our favorite things to do as a family. We turned down the lights, got comfy, and pointed the projector at the big wall in our living room.
I sat back. Icie ran back and forth from one side of the living room to the other watching "her toys" on the TV and then the wall and back again. There were shrieks of BUZZZZZZZZZ and WOOOOOODDDDY and JAAA-ESSS- EEEEEE! and moments of silence when the movie took her away.
Our new Christmas tree and some new Christmas decals already in place gave me tingles waiting to see Icie's face next month when she sees all the presents under her tree.
I felt like an adult, more of an adult, more of a mom, more of a wife. I felt it in a good way, not that overwhelming pinge that hits me from time to time when I feel like I'm failing. It was the exact opposite of the feeling I get when Icie melts down in public or looks at me and smiles right before she does something crazy bad. The opposite feeling from when Dave gets home from work and I feel like I've accomplished nothing, or at least nothing he will notice for the day.
I basked in my comfort and satisfaction for the rest of the evening and vowed to let myself enjoy those moments a little more often.