standing o

these are the days of standing ovations.

i watch my son sit upright without falling over and i refill the water in my daughter's watercolor cup so that she can paint another apple and sign her name and her artwork looks better than mine ever has. she giggles with her father at bedtime, telling stories and dancing and i hear her lilting 'daaaddyyy' as though he is a cute puppy and she points to her head at dinnertime and asks if i can see it.
what? i ask.
the little bubble that shows what is inside my head. my imagine. ation. her words enunciated with a strange new dialect she has created that i can't type and her fingers twirling around her head. she cries out in the middle of the night because of a purple rhino and then laughs in the morning because don't be silly, mommy. they are just dreams.
i sat the baby down in the grass at the park this week and his mind blew into pieces all over the blanket. he grabbed sticks and held them up in the air with a triumphant scream. then he looked at me and smiled, his two bottom teeth glistening.
i celebrate the small things. like a perfectly poached egg, the tomato plants flowering. a handwritten letter and a surprise gift from a loved one. the moments between the anxiety, the times when i hold my daughter's face in my hands as i kiss her goodnight and she smiles and sighs and pats my cheek. when i pick up my son and he turns to me and smiles, buries his tiny tiny chin into my shoulder and grips my arm. and i finish a book for the first time in months.
i watch the curtain fall at night and i feel like standing.