the end. babies crying…
This last week was busy. By busy I mean meetings, and craft fairs, and parades, and the usual weeks bringings beyond those. Our little T seemed to get a bit worn out. And so is her mamma. I’d say the two older littles are as well, but they’ll never admit it 😉
Here we go! It’s awesome to start December off with a good old Christmas parade. We’ve got a lot going for us this time around…with a sled dog race coming around and all. Big stuff going on today. Craft fairs and parades. We even managed to land an award for the float. Awesome.
I have the best intentions when it comes to blogging. I write these fabulous posts in my head all day long. Different scenario’s of life that make me want to write and write and write. So I take a picture that I think will go great with the post. I make sure my computer is charged and ready to go. I wait for that quiet moment where I can sit and think about what I want to write. Then everyone’s hungry. Then everyone’s looking for something to do. Then the babe is tired. Then The doggies need to potty. Then there’s puke on the floor. Then it’s dinner time. Then we wind down for bed. Then the littles all go to bed. Then I sit down to write. Then my brain no longer functions. I might upload the photo I took earlier. I might edit it. I’ll probably need to work on this sled dog race a bit. And then I’ll forget what it was I was going to write about in the first place. Or better yet, I’ll walk away with out another thought on the subject.
But I miss writing. I miss sharing my life with you.
December is coming up. I’m gearing up for the December photo-a-day challenge. Let’s give that a go again, eh? And maybe you’ll see this blog jump start again.
A blog is like a dear friend. when you’ve been away a while you can’t wait to get back to it. You think about it when you’re gone, and plan for the activities you’ll do together. Sometimes you avoid your dear friend because you don’t know how to explain the things you have thought in your heart. And sometimes you just can’t make the time in the day for the extra trip to visit your dear friend. But you still find yourself missing that friend all the same.
And the day comes when you reunite again.
You’ve got to take the time to get to know each other again. Talk about what’s been going on while you’ve been away. Make plans over coffee to get together again soon.
*annnd throwing in a photo of our little T, because things like this make us all smile.*
Tonight, it’s late. There are littles sprawled throughout my room, as they have been all week long while daddy is away at a conference. Little puzzle pieces of legs, arms, and tiny bodies finding a comfortable spot on the bed or mattress on the floor. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
As much as we miss our daddy while he’s gone, I think this week has been a much needed week for these growing littles of mine. This week there have been endless talks of life and learning. We’ve read from the Horse and His Boy hours into the night, while their tired eyes begged for one more chapter, just so we could find out who was walking next to Shasta. We’ve adventured to a picnic at the park with a special stop on the way home at an ice cream shop. They’ve played. And I’ve listened.
I’m reminded this week how easy it is to miss their growing up. From right underneath my nose in the day to day, they grow up.
Our little number 3 turned 2. She mastered the art of the potty, and in a weeks time is now insisting on doing everything “big.” And I’m remembering her beginnings, on a bus, with those tiny folded hands. Just like that, she’s not the baby. One of the team now.
Our oldest little, I’m finding is no longer a little. She’s a big. With hair that shines red in the sun, eyes that sparkle green, and a splash of freckles across her nose just to give the passerby a double take.
And not to be outdone our little formerly known as middle has lost the very last remains of the baby only a mamma can see. Her face has thinned out. Her hair now down to her shoulders, her legs long and thin.
One, two, three, four littles growing up so quickly, right out from under my nose. If I don’t soak it in now, these moments will be lost forever. Making me grateful for a week to take them in. To watch them breath at night, and feel their little feet kicking on my legs, trying to find room on the bed. If I don’t slow down just enough to breath them in, and watch them grow, I fear I’ll miss some of the greatest things about living this life.
Oh, how I’m grateful for these feet on my bed.
Eight years ago today, we jumped in with rings and vows, solidifying our motto “Always an Adventure” and took the plunge into what’s done nothing but Adventure.
We’ve taken satisfaction at doing things others said wasn’t possible. We’ve ignored glares from what isn’t the norm. We’ve ran as hard and as fast as we possibly could towards goals I didn’t even know were attainable. I love being married to you.
I don’t think I make that clear enough. I love being married to you. I don’t think I tell you frequently enough. I love being married to you. I’m so grateful that you so willingly changed another dirty diaper, or vacuumed the once again, and always dirty living room floor, or so willingly made me a coffee just to make me feel special.
I love being married to you.
In years past, I’ve boasted on our anniversary of how much we’ve accomplished in following the Lord, in our marriage. All the places, and doings that have gone on. Boy, are they spectacular. Buses, and 36 states. Coffee shops, music venues, Always an Adventure. 4 baby girls, 4 pups, 2 cats, 11 kittens, and 1 turtle. I love being married to you. Still, that’s not my favorite thing about you.
This last year, I have found such joy and love and trust in you. I have never felt more satisfied and content in trusting you to follow the Lord . I blame that mostly on the amount of time that I have seen you “on your knees” –so to speak–I love being married to you, specifically when I know you are taking all of our families needs, desires, and wants to the Lord.
I find my heart satisfied and content in knowing you would care that deeply about us. It’s when you pray that I see it carried out in those coffee’s you make me. I see it carried out in the floor you vacuumed, once again. I see it in that dirty diaper you so willingly change.
I love being married to you.
Thank you for these eight years. Thank you for our adventure. Thank you for being a man I can trust. Thank you for praying for us.
I love being married to you.