A moment

There is something about dinner time around here that seems to take the normal volume level at our house and ratchet it up about ten knobs. The way our downstairs is laid out you can run "laps" through the living room, dining room, kitchen, family room, hallway, and back to the living room. And run they do. And ride the little push bikes that Little Man is about two years too old for. And the toys seem to explode, the stove fan is blowing noisely, I'm trying to keep Mason occupied (and safe from his siblings) in his seat and I'm hoping to hear the door open signaling that Mike is home and I can get some back up. Winter time and darkness starting at 5:00 only adds to the stir crazy feeling.

The other day, however, it was very quiet. I peeked into the living room and this it what I saw. And I had one of those moments when I just wanted to freeze time. I was reminded of how fleeting these years of children always underfoot really are. And I know that all to soon winter afternoons will be filled with after school activities and homework, and youth night and the challenge of us eating together won't be tripping over toys as I prepare dinner, but it will be fitting it in with everyone's schedules. And watching them curled up in our cozy living room, home with me and safe, while it was dark and cold outside, filled me with a sense of contentment. And I took a breath, took a break, and got the camera. To try to capture this image and this feeling. And to just enjoy where we are.