My in-laws are in town and last night they took us out to eat at the Cheesecake Factory. In spite of the novella which one has to read when choosing what to eat, I like that place. The company was even better. As we drove away El Jefe made a sharp turn and I could hear our boxed up food shift in the back. I heard El Jefe jokingly cry “Oh no, the cheesecake!” to which I quickly responded and unbuckled myself to scramble through the seats and over the back to check. “Not my Key Lime Cheesecake!” I thought. And no, I wasn’t joking.
The food was fine, so I plunked myself between my two little chunks in the back seat.
“Mom, are you gonna sit with us?” came the excited voices.
“Yes!” I smiled.
I nestled between them and immediately felt one warm arm slip around my left arm and one cold hand holding my right hand.
I propped my bare feet on the arm rest between the seats and listened to the tunes of Jeff Buckley on our car stereo. At each stop light El Jefe reached over and gently tickled them (I know I have previously mentioned my “feet touching” issues, but with El Jefe they don’t exist).
After awhile Chunk #1 took a rare moment to actually tell me about things going on at school. Then Chunk #2 sang another rendition of her song “Mommy, I la-la-la-la-lo-o-ove you! Do do do do.”
Perhaps it was the music, perhaps it was the warm little bodies of my favorite boy and girl sitting next to me, perhaps the Cheesecake Factory injects something “special” into their food… but I noticed myself pressing pause on life and just feeling the moment and loving the fact that I am a mommy and have a wonderful husband.
So I spoke: “I’m having one of those ‘It’s good to be alive’ moments.”
Chunk #1: “Ya, me too, but sometimes I wish I were a dog.”
Judging by El Jefe’s laugh, I think he agreed with me.