What I love about Tom.
What I love about Tom is that my inner mama voice is so loud and hard; pushing gogogogo all day long, and there are these moments when I am go, go, going and over all of that loudness Tom says in his wordless way "look."
Yesterday after dinner I was going in go-mode. I was going to clean up dinner and going to give the boys a bath and going to pick up the mess of boy that trails these babies' every step throughout this house. And as I was going Tom tried to get my attention "Babe, look at this," "Come look at Teeber, Babe," "Get your camera, come here." But I was going and was firm with my no. I told him my camera was in the truck, in the driveway, it was cold. No.
But Tom knew a moment was happening.
Out of all of the happenings of life, there was this sliver of time after dinner where Teebs was splattering his left over food through the air and in between as many blades of his hair as he could smoosh it through. He was squealing and smooshing and mess making. He was laughing. He was being a baby.
And where I saw a mess and more reasons to listen to the mama voice whooshing through the tunnels of my mama bones with go-go-go's and do-do-do's and more-more-more's, Tom saw a moment.
And he put on his jacket and went to the driveway, to the truck, in the cold to get my camera. Because this moment mattered.
Just dinner, just messes, just baby squeals. But it mattered.
With my camera pressed to my face I started snapping and recording. I started laughing. And the gogogo was still whooshing but even that robust mama voice knew it was no match for this sliver of time.
It lasted less than five minutes. Teebs bored himself with his mess and he had to be stripped of all his mushed up clothing and the cleaning began. And Tom melted away into the bathroom to patiently clean Bub's ears.
Like nothing remarkable had just happened. Like everything was just as good as it always has been and always will be. Like every sliver of time just smoothed away into one huge pool of time and all in all, everything was pretty good.
The mess was cleaned, baths were finished, boys were wrapped up warmly in beds, and the mama gogogo voice seemed not as important that evening because there were moments to be had, recorded, and remembered.
And that, basically, is what I love about Tom.
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