A Little Reality Check

I had the most wonderful surprise today.

While at work, I was busy "working". (It was actually really slow today so I had to try to find things to do with my time. I even resorted to reading the employee handbook. Yeah, I was bored). Suddenly I notice a handsome grey-haired man talking to the receptionist out front. He had a beautiful and precious, sleeping baby on his shoulder and a rambunctious little boy running around his knees.

My heart leapt. And for an instant as I ran out to meet them, I wanted to cry. I don't think I have ever been so happy to see my family in all my life.

I walked the halls with Evan on my hip and Zion still in dream-land on Greg's shoulder. I showed them off to all my co-workers with pride. Yes, pride. It was the first time I had felt that way too. Having them there in my office was a bit surreal. It was like two world's colliding.

In my world at home, my children are a reality. The diapers to change, hungry mouths to feed, tears to wipe, and games to play are the constant reminders of just how real my little ones are. This may sound strange, but at home they are not special. My neighbors all have their own flocks of kids and mine are just a couple of others on the block. A part of the crowd. A part of the norm. This is the reality.

But in my world at work my kids are a dream. They are always in my mind. They are a picture in a frame and a topic of conversation. They are where I long to be. And yesterday that dream became a reality as I showed them off.

We walked from office to office saying "hi". It was much like Halloween for Evan, because my co-workers all have candy dishes on their desks. And how often do they get to give their candy to darling children? Never. There were oohs and ahhs and "how old are you's?" and many many "oh so cutes." Here, they were special. To these grandmas and mothers of teenagers and single women my kids were important. They were a breath of fresh air in the middle of a monotonous day.

We walked down to the corner Mexican restaurant. Sometime during the chips and salsa, I looked in the big blue eyes of my children with a new appreciation for just how special they are. And even while cleaning their messy little faces, I was still beaming with pride.