Sometimes I stop long enough to remember the days I spent praying for the things I have now.


becoming that person

He is likely less than two decades away from his future as a deep sea diver.  Or a dive bar pianist.
Or an astronaut or an economist or all of the above.

I feel like it's part of our job to help him figure out who he is and to become that person.
I do fear his ideas are like candle flames, and I don't want a pair of careless fingers to come along and pinch them out, I don't want his curious spirit to be crushed one bit.

There are enough things to weigh a person down, gravity and reality and dive weights, if that's the direction he goes.  We are grateful for all of the good people who are helping him find out who he is, and encouraging him to fly or float or just flourish in general.


life lately, on Instagram

1.  preschool holiday concert - knew all the words, sang not one note
2.  ladies of #inglisprogrodinner via @jferris9674
3.  whiskey punch, pinkies out
4.  progro preggos
5.  silent night, simultaneously beautiful and terrifying #playingwithfire
6.  little John could not be more loved #chesleysdream

7.  project in Poppy's dangerous room - first pocket knife
8.  boning up on human anatomy via @keg256
9.  jump ropes, journals and warm December days
10.  brothering like a boss
11.  books for dinner
12.  the day Ikea just about did us in
13.  one clown shy of a circus
14.  too bad touching things helps them see better #columbusmuseumofart

15.  holiday dinner with friends via @mkstahlohio
16.  family brunch via jen_nack
17.  author event with Gillian Flynn via @mkstahlohio
18.  my first favorite is "friends"
19.  #gillsgirls
20.  nothing beats the grandview cookie jar #johndamon

21.  elementary morning greeter 
22.  four years, four red blooms
23.  past bedtime, but don't dare interrupt
24.  taking the more is more approach to pretend play
25.  below freezing = all the toys out
26.  pretty sure those are T Rex tracks
27.  grant trauma party
28.  remembering her #withfeathers


and then more

I sit next to him most mornings with an alarming level of gratitude for coffee.  And for children.
Even him, the early riser.  Especially him.

He eats “make believe” for breakfast and breathes “let's pretend” until lunch.
He spins stories that engage, and after getting Tuck out the door to school, after I refill my cup and after I eat my eggs and after a few wait just a minutes and not right this seconds, I love being able to say Yes. Great idea. Let’s play!
We build Lego boats and Playmobil zoos and we banish dragons along with almost any sense of anxiety to be more productive.  His smile pulls my thoughts away from that thing I need to finish, his imagination helps me summon a stronger sense of calm.  We play all of the fantasy games he knows, and then more that I didn't even realize existed.

I try not to spend too much time wondering if what I'm doing is the best use of my time on this planet.  I try mostly to do what feels good and right and purposeful, to trust that my choices will bring about positive results at some later, undisclosed date.  Often this commitment is a daily, teeth-gritting endeavor of tremendous faith and patience.

I sit next to his father most evenings with an alarming level of gratitude for bedtime.  And for boys, all of them.  Especially the big one.
Although it feels like we have been operating somewhere on the far end of the spectrum of tired, we close out most days with another Whew, we did it.  We gave them all of the love and energy we have, and then more that we didn’t even know was there.


sometimes it's a spectator sport

Watching the boys learn to love books, seeing them at the dining room table savoring donut deliveries and plant growth and new Lego sets alike, witnessing their thrill at smashing ice under snow boots and a plate of warm carmelitas afterward, glimpsing them dart from the doorway gym to the piano bench to a brand new version of themselves, squinting to catch them with fresh eyes when they've frustrated me and feeling the muscles of my heart stretch and knowing how lucky we are.