Peace and Quiet

We've had an amazing summer so far - I'd post pictures, but I've taken nearly 900, and it's hard to choose which pics to share!  But nonetheless we've been nonstop with visits to parks and playgrounds, running through sprinklers, visiting family, swimming at the lake, staying up too late, eating too much junk food...lots of fun.  So today I was extra intentional to stay home with the kids all day, and be sure I was hands-on playing with them the whole day.  Yes, there were plenty of times I had to say things like: "Ruby take that out of your mouth, you know we don't eat mulch, or Ruby stop throwing rocks you almost hit your brother in the head that time, or Ruby use your body gently show me how you can be kind to others with your body...." But, mostly we played with toys that have been neglected during these hot sunny days, and we colored, and we swung on the swings, and planted perennials, and made sun tea in a jar... I was really patting myself on the back this afternoon for being such a SuperMom!

And then when Daddy got home from work, we put on clean clothes and loaded up the van and drove to Cousin Finney's house for his birthday party.  Ruby and Sadie Lou were extra excited to get to play with Finn's other cousins.  They ran around outside giggling, they played dress up, they sat together eating bbq and beans, and fidgeted together while we all sat and watched Finn open his gifts.

Then it happened:  All the adults (17 of us) and all the kids (11 plus a newborn) were in the living room.  Someone thought it was a good idea to get a photo of the kids.  We lined them up, we pointed our cameras at them.  Bulbs were flashing, people were laughing and talking, Joshua was pushing a loud toy truck across people's toes, Finn was trying to tackle his uncle...and I saw a flicker of things to come wash over Ruby's face.
She wailed.  She hollered.  She burst into tears and ran towards me, bumping into people on her way.  Her head buried into my stomach.  I was holding my brother's high tech camera, so I tried hugging her around my waist with one arm and within seconds had her hurried into the back mud room.  Dave was with us - her two parents knew exactly what happened: Ruby had enough.  Her amazing brain, that processes every smell, sound, sight, taste, texture that the rest of us filter out and cast aside - that brain was overloaded.  In the mud room she was gasping for air through deep sobs.  "I can't, I can't.  I don't feel good, Momma, I want, I want, I can't, I, I, no one put their arms on me for the picture, and every one was talking too loud...I can't, I, I..."    "Shh, Ruby.  You are ok.  Sshh.  Let's take a deep breath like a Polar Bear."  Dave and I were on our knees trying to get her to look at our eyes.  "I need cold water, Momma"
Within five minutes we had the four kids' shoes on and out the door.  We're so proud of Ruby.  God made her "special" and she knows her self.  She knows when enough is enough.  So ... we said our good-byes and peacefully drove away, following a rainbow in the sky and sprinkles on the windshield, and a little girl in the back seat with her head against the window, eyes closed, holding hands with her sister.
Ah.  That's more like it.