Making Pies,, Patty Griffin’s song that hit me over the head like a ton of bricks on my drive to the Cape for Thanksgiving calls out to me this morning as I drag my feet on the way to my Sunday morning ritual, making banana bread for my sleeping kids, all under cover after a long week away in Texas with their dad, up yesterday morning in the 3’s, asleep between 6:30 (big guy!) and 10 (middle guy) last night, I wonder how long they’ll sleep today, before waking to the smell of banana bread, maybe just in time for the mac and cheese if I get that far, in time for the science fair project, the help carrying in the groceries, the phone call to the friend who wants to go snowboarding, maybe the dance class, the February vacation journal, the unpacking of suitcases, the catching up of laundry, the laying around the house together and running of errands, maybe if all goes well, the dance class.

End of February vacation blues, I think, also grounding in the reality of everyday life with kids and a home and a job, back to taxes, back to enrollments, back to parent communication and meetings, back to the photos and the observations, the incidental blog entries, not back to any big new plans, moving on and moving on and moving on to the next day and the next year, working it out as we go here, the whole living life one day at a time thing hits home, making pies, making banana bread, making life, making love out of whatever scraps are here, the overripe bananas, the songs, the sweetness of three sleeping kids, one nearly an adult, so big my six this week who borrowed his old size 12 kids boots could not believe they have ever belonged to my boy who is so much bigger than I am now, the whole motherhood thing passes by so quickly some days you wonder where the time went, other days the time between waking up myself and the time the kids rise from their weary beds is forever.