Dear future me,
Ah life these days. It is going by so quickly and I see this special stage coming to a close. I know the next stage will be just as sweet if not sweeter but there is still a melancholy with the ending of a chapter. I even feel it when wrapped up in a good book.. the infantile fuss of not wanting the beauty to end even for something better.
Six months is how long we have as a unit unfettered by the education system. Dramatic? yes. But you've met me so it fits.
Six more months with the freedom of slow mornings, digging in dirt, snacks and tv and crazy pretend games of kitty cats or family or whatever makes the girls giggle. The baby can nap, I can clean and flexibility reigns king.
Claire loves "school work" and now colors and draws and Sophie joins in. I relish the discovery of what they have made as a peak into their little mind and hearts, "These are stars.. these are your eyelashes... these are birds.. and here's a mouse." Me getting married is a common theme in these drawings. Somehow I feel motherhood has arrived now that there are sweet stick figure drawings. Being artistically inclined myself I feel something meaningful in them like a mommy badge.
Isaac, alas, is not a sleeper. He is in our room in Sophie's white crib, propped up by hymnals. Sophie in turn is in Isaac's room in his crib propped up on Zondervan's concordances. And Claire rests happily alone in the girls' room, I'm afraid realizing how much sleep Sophie was leaching from her.
Sophie naps like a little rock, eager to go down and loathe to get up. Claire refuses to nap and plays in her room, "reading" books and enjoying digging in her "treasure" drawer away from Sophie's eyes. Isaac naps twice a day when we let him and if we miss, then our nights pay.
Bedtime, Claire is exhausted and is ready to go down and Sophie is still wired and ready to play. Climbing out of her bed again and again and coyly coming into the living room with eyes darting like a freed caged animal. Morning times she is the first up climbing into our bed, a warm little cuddler. Claire gets up with the sun, consistently regardless of bed time.
The girls are so genuinely fond of one another and Claire and Isaac are beside themselves with adoration. Sophie is still hit or miss with adoration for little "brudder" or "bubba". She loves him but cautiously-- quick to point out and remand if he touches her special puppy or kicks against her leg, "No bubby! Mine! Me!"
Claire is in her first ballet class at the community center. Like a romantic movie we arrive at dusk as young children kick soccer balls between the jungle gyms and the duck pond. Claire is giddy in her pink tights and fluttering tu-tu. Last week she was adamant that she must not wear a bun and she wanted her hair straight. We stand in the dingy hall with other parents, wrangling toddlers, coddling babies and making small talk all intermittenly while hearing, "And now princess hands!"... "And now Freeze!" wafting out from the mirrored dance room. I never expected taking my little girl to an almost free community class would make my heart feel so full. But it does.
It's a season for me of loving leading Bible studies and women's ministry. It's a season of meeting younger women for coffee and when energy and time allows delivering meals to new moms. It's been sweet. But reality dictates that with the switch to Kindergarten some of these responsibilities will have to give way to schooling. It's okay... but I want to remember how it has been when given the chance.
I still feel like a new mom, confused and overwhelmed and not very good at what I'm doing. And in the same breath "mother" is who I am. Our home is established our family is secure. Our routine is certain. We have "our" way and it is sweet. I know and am comfortable with who I am as a mom (hint: it does not include cute bows and expensive outfits and taking my kids out at the same time everyday to classes etc.) Not that there is anything wrong with any other way but just that I know what my way is. No... we are messy, unbrushed hair, grass stains on our play pants and mostly unscheduled.
And just as soon as I know it I see on the horizon change.
There is a sweetness to these days. There is a sweetness for sure.
It's not something that can be said just anywhere but since it's my blog I will feel a little free and bold to say what I think. And I think that being a mother and staying home is the greatest thing I've ever done. Feminism whimpers. It is not a bash against working moms or non moms. It simply is what it is. A true statement of my own existence.
Til next time friends,