It isn't as though I am complaining. Sometimes the business of days just gets away from you. I have a dear friend who also is at home with a little one and her big girl is also homeschooled, and we share the "holy cow, how does anything EVER get done" syndrome. There is a blogger/author/amazing woman named Amanda Blake Soule, who does an amazing job at mama-hood, writer-ness, and homeschooling her six children. My friend and I stare at each other blankly. How does she do it? And still have time for creativity? We both agree that our two children boogle our minds and we barely have time to wash the mountains of dishes that take over every evening. Sometimes I have to remind myself that when I was my little one's age, my mother had two babies in diapers and no running water. Wood stoves to feed, paths to shovel and laundry to tote. I look at the dust of our three little rooms and remember to be grateful. In terms of people on this earth, we are truly very very lucky.
Reminding myself that little ones as little ones only lasts so long. And before you know it, your baby is seven years old and as beautiful as the day is long. Long streaky dark blonde hair and thin strong arms and legs. A power and strength all her own and passions, love, and faith that the universe is a wonderful place. I can't believe how fast time has gone. I know that my parents think the same, thirty years gone by. Life is like that I suppose, and I suppose that is how it happens that parents become grandparents and children grow up.
I try and remember each day, and cherish the little girls that I have in my arms, knowing full well that before I blink they will be long, tall, other versions of myself and their fathers. (Both wonderful and loving men that they are). But truly their own, in every single way, these girls are growing up beautifully. I have the utmost faith, and a wonderful community to be thankful for.
|queen of the beach snow bank|
|trying out Tilly's stroller!|