I am feeling very smug right now. (What a great word - smug. Say it ten times in a row. Did you do it? It just SOUNDS smug.)
We had a great morning. The house was still a wreck from last night, but I managed to do the dishes, wipe down the table and counters, sweep, spot mop, and pick up the whole house of misplaced items in the time it took the kids to watch Thomas the Tank Engine. Forty-four minutes, baby. There should be Olympic medals for THAT.
Then we played. HARD. Jellybean giggled and gurgled until I just wanted to EAT him. We made a new batch of play-dough (the old stuff was getting kind of hard.) I BUZZED Little Prince's hair and now it looks like I gave birth to my brother Douglas. Totally creepy. (I'd post a picture but I currently can't find my camera.) Then Da Boyz ran in the sprinklers while Jellybean napped and I quilted.
I feel like I should make bread or something. Preferably with an apron on. And heels.
Now all three are down for the count and even though I SHOULD be working on camp vesper trail dialogues, I'm going to spend a few minutes writing about my smugified attitude. It can't last, so I'm going to record it.
And now, a reflection.
So part of this conjunctivitis gunkified goodness is pouring lots of stuff in my eyes. It feels like soap, though they tell me it's medicine. At night I have to smear cream on the inside of my eyelid. Ohhhhh, the joy. It produces a half-way numbing, half-way suicidal feeling - along with the panicky knowledge that I can't open my eyes if I don't want to be in extreme pain.
I have NEVER been an eye-shutter, people. Confession. Whenever someone tells me to close my eyes, I ALWAYS peek. Yes, even on every "Faith Walk" I've ever been. (So doom me to outer darkness, why don't you.) Even when I'm saying prayers, I'm always peeking every few seconds - although that's mostly to make sure some kid isn't poking the other.
It got me thinking.
How do blind people DO it? I'd get claustrophobic. I'd go crazy.
Not to be able to melt when I see the way my husband looks at me with his slow smile and the golden flecks in his sea-green eyes. Not to see my sweet baby smile at me while nursing, glancing up so coyly, so that every pregnancy inconvenience and labor pain is completely forgotten. Not to see my preschooler learn to read, his face all lit up with the joy of discovery that it actually brings tears to my eyes and I crow jubilantly right along with him. Not to see my toddler grin around the corner with that look on his face that says he KNOWS he's doing something wrong - but he's so cute that I forgive him immediately.
Not to SEE. How do they do it?
So it got My Man and I discussin'. What sense could you not STAND to lose? I think smell and taste are fairly disposable - hey, I'd probably eat better if brussel sprouts taste the same as Grandma Day fudge. Touch would be hard to lose, though. Hugs and kisses are a daily food group to me. But ... my sight? My hearing? COMMUNICATION? Tough call.
Which is your favorite sense?