I’ll never be one to deny the inherent difficulties that come with being a mother. By the same token, I’ll never be one to deny the love I have for my children. And it’s because of the latter that the aforementioned difficulties matter less. But sometimes, the Gods throw you a bone. Sometimes, shit goes right.

The other day was one of those days. Only it didn’t start out that way.

Willy left for a business trip, which always causes anxiety to both of us; him because he has to leave us and me because I’m about to have to handle it on my own. And by “it”, I mean the household; the boys, the dishes, the meals, the dog, the potty training routine, the bed time routine… you know the deal. It was 10:35am and I was taking Jimmy out to pee when I realized that it was Tuesday and that I should have dropped Hooper off at preschool two and a half hours ago. I shrugged it off, got the boys dressed, made them a lunch to go, and headed to a nearby wilderness park that we have gone many times before but never this time of year.

We parked at the end of the park and hiked around. The boys climbed up fallen trees, collected sticks, chased one another, played with the water spicket, listened to the birds, and enjoyed the overcast sky that left dew on the long strands of grass. And when I sensed they had had enough, we made the short drive down the road to the park where they built a bird’s nest out of sticks they found on the ground, dug for dinosaur bones in the sand, went down the biggest slide I’ve seen them go down, jumped off rocks that were a little too high for my liking but I tend to take a blind eye to that kinda thing anyway, swung on swings, had sword fights (not of the urinating variety) and learned to use the teeter tauter and tire swing together.

They ate their lunches in separate places but waved as if to say to one another, “you cool?”.

Knowing that he not always understands what I say, I told Hooper, “please remember days like today when you look back on your childhood” and as if he actually understood what I meant, he glanced back in my direction and sincerely said, “I love you”. I can’t make this stuff up. Shortly thereafter, Van came running toward me crying and holding his hand to his head. Midway over, he stopped in his tracks, looked at me, took his hand off his head, changed his look completely, and said, “Mama, I’m okay” and turned around and went back to playing. Miracles, I tell you, miracles.

Something heavenly possessed my children on this day.

Perhaps more important than what there was, was what there was not; not an excessive amount of tears, no fights, slim to none whining (you can sound your party horns now), no injuries, and zero stress. And for that alone, a good day — one of the best I can remember in sometime. Now that’s something for the books. But a post will do.