I have been living in a state of exhaustion for such a long time it is starting to feel normal. The house is pretty much perpetual chaos, things are slipping through the cracks at an alarming rate, and I have pretty much stopped pretending that this is a temporary thing and pretty much come to accept that, for now, this is our new "normal".
One of the many things slipping through the crack is writing. I miss this place so much. But, Miss Tacy has hit the baby octopus stage and grabs at any and everything in her reach so using the lap top is a luxury. The past few times I have sat down to write my brain is in such a fog that I cannot think of half the words I want to use and sit there staring at the blinking cursor till I doze off.
But tonight I am powering through. Granted I'm running on the fumes of this afternoon's coffee and the sugar rush from this evening milk shake... but I think it's enough to get out what rolling around in my head. I would just wait... but I don't want to miss this... I don't want to forget....
Because tonight, for a few moments, the curtain of time pulled back and I got to catch a glimpse of the life we are building for our girls.
Saturdays shopping with the grandparents and playing out side in Grandpa's yard till fingernails are black and little girls are so tired they fall asleep on the way home.
Spring and summer evenings playing out side yelling across the street with the neighbor girl until she finally gets permission and skips across the road to jump in leaves and ride scooters up and down the drive way.
Aunt Emily coming from down stairs to bounce babies while dinner cooks.
Calling every one into dinner and sitting down at the table and not even thinking twice about the friend sitting at the table till dinner is almost done and you realize that no one thought to ASK if she could stay for dinner because it just feels so natural to have her.
Driving around with milk shakes on a Saturday night, listening to country music, reviewing the week we had and planning the week to come.
The littlest one pulling up on the bathtub and making faces while the biggest one is taking a bath. The two of them laughing and babbling to each other while I scrub dirt off of bruised knees.
Washing the middle one's hair and both of us giggling uncontrollably at the funny hair sculptures we pile on her head.
Listening to Daddy read bed time stories on the living room floor.
"How do we do it?" I had asked him at dinner. "How do we make sure, when we look back on our lives, that we don't have a bunch of regrets?"
"Daddy, mommy was washing my hair and she started laughing, and then I started laughing, and we couldn't stop."
One of the many things slipping through the crack is writing. I miss this place so much. But, Miss Tacy has hit the baby octopus stage and grabs at any and everything in her reach so using the lap top is a luxury. The past few times I have sat down to write my brain is in such a fog that I cannot think of half the words I want to use and sit there staring at the blinking cursor till I doze off.
But tonight I am powering through. Granted I'm running on the fumes of this afternoon's coffee and the sugar rush from this evening milk shake... but I think it's enough to get out what rolling around in my head. I would just wait... but I don't want to miss this... I don't want to forget....
Because tonight, for a few moments, the curtain of time pulled back and I got to catch a glimpse of the life we are building for our girls.
Saturdays shopping with the grandparents and playing out side in Grandpa's yard till fingernails are black and little girls are so tired they fall asleep on the way home.
Spring and summer evenings playing out side yelling across the street with the neighbor girl until she finally gets permission and skips across the road to jump in leaves and ride scooters up and down the drive way.
Aunt Emily coming from down stairs to bounce babies while dinner cooks.
Calling every one into dinner and sitting down at the table and not even thinking twice about the friend sitting at the table till dinner is almost done and you realize that no one thought to ASK if she could stay for dinner because it just feels so natural to have her.
Driving around with milk shakes on a Saturday night, listening to country music, reviewing the week we had and planning the week to come.
The littlest one pulling up on the bathtub and making faces while the biggest one is taking a bath. The two of them laughing and babbling to each other while I scrub dirt off of bruised knees.
Washing the middle one's hair and both of us giggling uncontrollably at the funny hair sculptures we pile on her head.
Listening to Daddy read bed time stories on the living room floor.
"How do we do it?" I had asked him at dinner. "How do we make sure, when we look back on our lives, that we don't have a bunch of regrets?"
"Daddy, mommy was washing my hair and she started laughing, and then I started laughing, and we couldn't stop."
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