Swinging on Birches

I can wait. I'm really good at waiting. For example, each year that my husband and I exchange Christmas gifts, we manage to wait until around December 15th (give or take) to exchange gifts. And every morning, I wait until the last possible second to roll out of bed when I have to be up. And I've waited to get in a decent, consistent workout routine for years . Bad examples? Fine. I can't wait.  I'm notoriously bad at being patient and letting moments 'be' without thinking about what's coming next or what I should be doing. Sit and watch tv?  Sure, while I sew or copy recipes or plan a grocery list.  Enjoy breakfast?  Sure, after emptying the dishwasher, scrubbing the highchair and wiping down the counters.  A nice road trip?  Sure, I'll pack my books, magazines, 7000 piece puzzle (ok, maybe not).  But, you get the point. Anyway, waiting is not something I'm good at, and this Advent season, I've finally gotten the message that h

Well, it's been a year. An exhausting, wonderful, busy, fast, slow, perfect, frustrating year. The year of the baby. 10 days old You know what would be much more helpful in the baby books or the hospital information? A reminder that the "year of the baby" is not really a year at all.  I mean, it is in the fact 365 days pass, but nothing in that year is anywhere near  normal. You will not hang out with friends.  You will not complete house projects.  You will have a LOT of dirty laundry.  You may rarely clean your house.  You will spend a whole lot of time snuggling and very little time sleeping. And that's ok. Because that year goes oh-so-fast.  And you only get to do it once in that baby's lifetime. One summer.  One fall.  One winter.  One spring.  ONE. And then ONE is here and that amazing little baby that took every ounce of your being for 12 months is getting bigger and can play by herself and explore by herself and needs a little less

The first cut is the deepest. Isn't that how the song goes? I saw it tonight, and it shocked me into a new mama reality. Ward and I were talking about his school and how his friend, Gabrielle, is moving away next week--her dad got a new position in Alabama and they will be leaving right away. And even though he knew it was coming, he was suddenly overly concerned. "But we can go see her, right?" (Well, honey, I doubt we'll go to Alabama, but if we do, I promise we will see if we can get together with her). "But we can fly there, right mom?  It's not that far!" (Well, dear, I know it sounds easy, but it isn't that simple.  We have no reason to go to Alabama and mommy and daddy both have to work and we can't just pay for plane tickets to go on a vacation." "But why can't we build a house in Alabama right by hers!?  It's warm there and I like to be warm!" (Well, sweetheart, we live here and we love t

Toddlers are hard. Modeling his best "angry face." Did anyone ever tell you that? I was never let in on the secret. I mean, sure, I heard about the "terrible twos" and all of that. But, we floated through two. Seriously.  Two was an awesome year.  Tons of sweetness, lots of learning, joy abounding. We thought we were home free. For real. But, then came three.  Ohhhhh, three. Don't get me wrong, we have AMAZING moments with him everyday.  Seriously.  Cuddles and giggles and dancing and reading and laughing.  The good stuff. On his third birthday last spring. But three has come with a whole new set of challenges. Fits and yelling and stomping and arms crossed and whining oh my. Who knew that talking and knowing would come with opinions and determination and frustration?  Everyone else?  Oh.  Got it. And as a parent, you sort of expect those things, right?  I mean, you know that no matter what, you're going to have some crazi

Wardie's participating in swim lessons.   Remember those?  Your little body shivering in the cold water, the instructor urging you to trust, teaching you how to cup your hands, straighten your knees, kick your legs.  Blowing bubbles in the water.  Getting the courage to duck your head under for just the quickest moment just to come up, sputtering and gulping, to catch that breath of air. Do we ever learn how to properly breathe underwater? Miss Elliot turned 8 months old last week.  My baby is 2/3 of the way through her first year.  Ward is going to morning Montessori preschool and taking swim lessons two nights a week.  We're considering soccer this spring.  I am watching (in addition to our children) between two and four other children each day.  I just started coaching club volleyball again.  I became the Board President of the local Food Bank.  I deliver food once a month to another location through our church.  We have Sunday School and church groups and Bryan&#