We still don’t know for sure where we are moving. We’ve been negotiating on a house we want since Wednesday. I am weary with all the numbers and back and forth and spreadsheets and “final offers.”
The ball bounced back into our court earlier this evening and my brain was reeling. Andrew took the phone to discuss things with the realtor while I changed Finn’s diaper. I started to pray out loud.
My children were un-phased by this, as they are used to me begging for mercy over a poopy diaper. But I prayed for more this time. “Jesus, we need wisdom. Is this our house or do we stop fighting for it?”
Finn stared up at me and blinked. I noticed that he was out of his clothes and I picked him up for a nuzzle. I buried my face in his belly and gave him a nice big zerbert.
I did it again.
Once more and I got a deep, grumbly, growly, belly chuckle.
Baby belly laughs are a gateway drug. You can’t have just one.
Two more zerberts later we were both laughing, the kind of laugh that you feel way down to your toes.
And I knew then… it doesn’t matter if we live in our dream house or a temporary rental. Wherever that belly laugh is, that’s home.
We’re all still together. It’s possible we may experience more “togetherness” than we want in the upcoming months. But Together is exactly where I want to be.
Before the kids went to bed, I wrapped my arms around Ian and whispered another thank you for his health. He runs, he jumps, he uses bigger words than he should know, and he still lets me cuddle him when he’s sleepy.
These people: in sickness, in health, in laughter, in tears, with and without furniture, They Are My Home.
And the belly buttons come free of charge.
Linking up with the Parenthood today. Join us? Share anything you’ve written: good, bad, ugly or indifferent, about parenting this week. You know you want to…