I was down and out yesterday with an "almost 24-hour flu" (you wish you could throw-up but you couldn't, light-headed, etc.). Obviously, dinner was not my top priority, but, children and husband must be fed. I settled on a highly nutritious menu of macaroni and cheese (boxed, mind you) mixed with exotic frozen peas, and a side of canned peaches in light syrup. Yummy. Delicacy. Dinner was served and I dragged myself to the couch, pillow and blanket eagerly awaiting my return (I must admit, I was not sole-chef. Brigham made 90% of the macaroni).
Laying there, eyes closed, ears attuned, I heard the coolest sound. Have you ever listened to silverware clanking against plates? I know, weird, but really cool, too. No one was speaking; everyone was eating (they were hungry, it was almost 7pm). I listened for a while, then I opened my eyes, watching them. Annie looked over at me. She waved and smiled the sweetest little lip-grin. A moment later, Brigham ran over, kissed me on the cheek, and ran back to his plate. Then Lincoln ran over, jumped on me, hugged me, and ran back. William looked at me, smiling. Then Annie said, "I push Mommy off couch?" To which Ben replied, "No, we don't want to push Mommy off the couch." She laughed.
And then it hit me. Dinner was one big share-the-love moment. I loved them enough to make dinner (mac & cheese, but still...dinner), and they loved me enough to eat it, devour it, and smile, hug, jump on, kiss, wave, and make jokes about me. My heart swelled (it really felt that way) at the thought. I'm so grateful I have a family to make dinner for...that's not always true, but last night it was. A tender mercy in the form of peaches, peas, and macaroni. Who'd of thought?