floating targets

The past couple weeks have been, for the most part, so pleasant.  The boys have become almost indispensable to each other, going from early morning movies to magnets to breakfast to light sabers to ball games to agreeing on lunch, all of it together.
While I love so many things winter break entails -- elastic waistbands and warm blankets, library books and leftovers -- this has been my favorite.  Their brotherhood.  Their combined laughter (mostly at Siri's expense) and their mutual creativity (exhibit endless Spooner Ballooner games) and their cooperation.

Part of me would prefer to move gently from December and the holidays to the next month, to slip simply into the new year.  That's the part of me that would also like to keep eating queso and ice cream.
The other part of me can't help giving some thought to improvement.  I could try to eat more protein and vegetables.  I could complain less and spend less and scroll less.
While it feels nice to be motivated, the other side of that sword says I am not enough, I should be more.

Tolliver is trying really hard to stay in bed until his clock shows six.  And Tucker has been very brave in tasting lots of new foods lately.  When I look at the boys, acknowledging the ways they're growing, I realize that our current selves are all pretty amazing as is.
There is nothing wrong with trying to be better, unless it makes us lose sight of that.

I want to keep swimming and to take more walks, to devote myself mostly to raising boys and reading books, to finishing hot coffee and to having real life conversations, to wishing for snow and to getting more sleep.  To remembering I am enough and I have enough.
Right now, that feels like plenty.