so i'll send you my words from the corners of my room and though i write them by the light of day please read them by the light of the moon

This morning we were late for Mother Goose Time. It was all my husband's fault. Okay, it was probably just a little bit my fault, too. He treated me to a morning of sleeping in since I was up late last night...only he underestimated the process of getting ready and leaving the house with an infant on a 30 minute drive. In the rain, at that, as today was gloomy from start to finish. In between packing the diaper bag, grabbing the camera, loading up the car, getting Ethan fed, changed and dressed, I somehow had to find time to get myself dressed.

I sat Ethan up in our bed and sang songs and danced while I got dressed. It's the only thing that works. He is the audience and I am the performer, desperately trying to entertain him enough to keep away the waterworks while I try to make myself look presentable enough to make it out in public. I brush my teeth and do a makeshift tapdance at the same time while trying to sing some silly song a la Jan from Grease through lathered up gums. I share my make-up mirror with Ethan while I struggle to get eyeliner on the other eye once he decides the show is getting a little stagnant. I've learned to put on mascara without a mirror at the same time as I'm slipping on my shoes. All the while, of course, singing some obnoxiously bad rendition of a song Ethan probably can't even recognize.

Just another morning in our house. Just another morning.

I realize at 9:35 that we're still home. We can do this. We take the route the GPS advises us to take which I always avoid because it's filled with back roads through unfamiliar places and I'm as terrible at navigating as I am singing. It's the fastest route, the GPS assures me, and I listen because I have a hopeful little boy in the backseat who deserves to have his spot in the circle of happy babies and children engulfed in singalongs.

We get there. We miss the song where the teacher welcomes all of the children to the circle, but we get there nonetheless. I can't help shake the feeling of being rushed and the awkward feeling that comes with it. I feel like I could have an egg cracked on the top of my head and can't quite place what is wrong with this picture, like my legs are sitting across the room from my torso and I can't seem to figure out what is different. For once, many of the other children spend the class crying (I blame the weather) and my child is all giggles. He rolls around his blanket and talks, coos, laughs, looks around at all of the other babies as he wiggles around and moves his limbs in his own unique little dance. It was worth rushing for. It was worth the moment of panic when I honestly can't remember if I only have make-up on one eye.

Watching babies wiggle around on blankets is one of those entertaining bits about motherhood that I never thought about with a longing sigh. You know the staples: baby's first zoo trip, first smile, first laugh, holding a sleeping baby or taking a whiff of their clean baby scent fresh out of the bath. I never looked forward to watching my baby wriggle around on a blanket but, let me tell you, it is up there with my favorite parts about being a mother to an infant so far. They each have their own little wiggle-methods, their own way their limbs flail about as they twist around in their own little dance. It's adorable. It's worth rushing for. It's worth praying to the navigation system gods that your GPS knows where it's taking you when it tells you to turn down a street you've never even heard of as the rain pours down on your windshield.

For me, the days are rare that I'm able to begin with a mad rush and not only keep my composure but genuinely enjoy the day. Today was one of those days. Today was one of those days where I got into my pajamas, sat down and smiled at what a fantastic day that it was.