little things

Sometimes I wish for a wand to turn back time, a way to create space for relationships that will never be.
None of us are meant to overlap forever.  All of us are stuck loving hearts that will stop.

After a funeral and a few sad days, I'm finding some redemptive power in the little things :: a shared memory, a shock of tulips, another small silhouette against the same old back door frame.

kind heart, brave spirit

He filed a rock to give it a sharp tip, and taped it to a feather.  

Then he tied string to a stick, slightly bowed. 

There is, after all, just one letter difference between worrier and warrior.

careworn

I wonder how much we'll remember about this time, about this beleaguered, careworn feeling, undoubtedly brought on by the usual demands of child-rearing.
These days our house feels a bit overrun with boisterous children. There is a constant barrage of questions, a steady stream of requests and the firehose onslaught of plain old exuberant energy from three growing boys.
Thank goodness spring is showing up.  The sun started working again and the earth is coming back to life and the boys can be outside.

I don't spend a whole lot of time longing for ten minutes of silence or fantasizing about the day when peace might reign over the dinner table.  I am too busy referring fights and modeling civilized conversation and mopping up messes. When I do find a second in which I'm not being harassed by whatever's next, I usually whisper some gratitude for the noise and the chaos and the very full house.  Or I hide in the bathroom with chocolate.  Whatever.

No matter how it feels right now, smack in the midst of crazy, I know these years will fly by.  I love it - the loud and the messy and the exhausting - and I love them. So much. I know that given the choice of bedlam and the quiet order that may someday come, I'd opt for this period when I have to beg to be left alone. Over and over again, I would.

just checking his in-box

like a goat loves garbage

If it's not sturdy, he needs to climb it.
If it's trash, he pretty much has to taste it.
If it's heavy, he really wants to pick it up.
If it's fragile, he just needs to carry it around all day.
If it's sharp, he would love nothing more than to adopt it and bring it home to live with us.

confident

Hey Mom, I know how to spell UFO!  It starts with Y...then O...O.  Y-O-O spells U!

Walking to preschool: I don't need to zip my hoodie because I’m a furnace.

I can name some animals that have cold blood pressure, can you? 

Helping at the grocery: I can find the swiss cheese!  Wait, you mean like cartoon cheese, with all the holes, right? 

I know how to make a carne-raptor. You just need to add a dash of carnosaurus DNA to a velociraptor to make a baby. 

coffee and books

I don't mean to exaggerate, but this might be the best part of parenting.