The best alarm clock

I heard Clark's foot steps on the stairs - softly creeping up to the top. The baby gate swung open as he passed through it and closed with a soft thunk. He waited now, choosing his prey. Sometimes it was us, sometimes it was Iris. (our rooms are opposite each others on the landing). Then I heard the barnyard door of our room softly creek open and tiny little feet pad across the room. They stopped at my side of the bed, but I was still mostly asleep and non-responsive. The feet abandoned me and padded around the foot of the bed to Tom's side. I heard some whispering and then the creak of the bed springs as a body was added.  A minute later I felt his fuzzy head nestling in the crook of my arm.

A few minutes later, the bed creaked again as Tom got up. I heard the shower run - then the soft moan of the baby waking.  Doors opening, doors closing. Tom's feet coming over to the bed.  Clark scoots over to let Iris in.  My eyes are still closed while Iris nurses, all of us still mostly asleep.  Clark's tender voice says, "our sweet baby, she's a little sweetie, just like a little baby sweetie." I can feel him patting her head.  Then his weight added to ours and I heard his kisses above her ear.  Iris says, "ma ma" and we roll over so she can nurse on the other side.

My eyes open for a second and I say, "good morning, Clark".  Now Iris is on his far side, so he climbs on my shoulder so he can look at her.  She only nurses for a second more as Clark hands her a sippy cup of milk - his from last night.  She takes the cup of milk and drinks heartily.  Clark starts blowing zerberts on my arm.  Iris rolls up until she is sitting.  She wants to play too. Clark blows on my shoulder. Iris blows on my belly.  I open my eyes and smile. 

Rain walk.

This is a moment I want to remember forever.


We took this wonderful walk tonight when Tom came home from work. We made our way down to Rock Creek Park, slow as molasses, following the stop and go whims of Mr. Precious. When we got into the park, I carried him. We got to Rock Creek, usually far below us, with a high bank. It was swollen, maybe 4-6 feet. It was running fast. You could hear the energy in the water. We threw some seeds, sticks and leaves into the water. It started to rain again. We weren't surprised. We started home, Clark, Tom and I with umbrellas and Iris in the stroller. Clark loved having his own umbrella. He kept saying, "daddy has umbrella, mommy has umbrella, Clark has umbrella". His umbrella was leopard print. He was wearing a size 4T Firetruck shirt on his 2T body, jean shorts peaking out underneath the shirt hem. White socks with blue and red stripes pulled high above his brown rain boots. The rain hitting the trees above us was like applause. The rain on my umbrella was a tippy tappy tap dancer. The air smelled like nothing, days of rain had already removed the smell of earth and sweat from the air. Tom pushed the stroller ahead of me with his green and white umbrella. He leaned forward to try to keep Iris dry, his back was soaked. I glanced back to see Clark walking slowly, listening, looking, absorbing the life around us.