Time Has Flown

My youngest child is now 3 and a half years old. My oldest? 5 and a half and now in Kindergarten.

To say I stopped blogging is an understatement.

But I didn't stop writing.

In fact, my writing increased.

Since the last blog post entry, I have "published" over 230,000 words, one of which was a novel about 70 words longer than the first Harry Potter novel.

I love writing. I enjoy telling stories.

But in the process of telling the stories of others, I have ignored writing my own.

And as I was cleaning off my shortcuts bar tonight, I went back and read a few entries here, and realized: I need to keep writing this stuff down.

Because I'm already forgetting things.

I can't promise that I'll write on a regular basis. I can't promise I'll have anything amazing to say.

But there will be words and stories and funny things and probably more than a little bit of frustration and snarkiness, because that's just who I am, like it or not.

Avonlea Overheard, Vol. 14

Avonlea is only allowed to play with the iPad on Saturdays. When she asked today to play, I told her it wasn't Saturday. Today is Friday. Her response:

"It's not Friday, it's Sunday! Er, it's not Friday, it's Thursday! Er, it's Saturday! (Pause) Er...oh, bother, I can't get my words out!"

"You're Gonna Miss This"

This is the phrase I hear most often thrown around between older moms and new moms.

"You'll miss this when they're older."

"Cherish every moment! They're over so quickly."

There have been many moments, though, that I can look at specifically and say, I am *not* going to miss that moment.

Like when I had to miss my brother-in-law's wedding because my toddler wouldn't stop screaming and flailing around in tantrum, so I had to stay in the car and listen to her scream:

Or when the baby is sick and snotty and cries constantly and only wants to be held ALL DAY LONG:

When your toddler refuses to nap even though she is EXHAUSTED and she spends the next 20 minutes in the car screaming her head off and rubbing her eyes:

When both kids cried/whined through your entire shopping trip to WalMart:

When you get only 4 hours of sleep total for several nights in a row with a teething baby.

When your baby decides to give up the pacifier--but can't sleep without it quite yet.

When your baby breastfeeds so hard you develop scars on your nipples.

When she screamed an entire flight from Philadelphia to Los Angeles.

But the moments aren't all bad. In fact, there are lots of moments that I know I will want to remember. They're the ones I will miss.

Carrying a sleeping baby around Disneyland:

Watching her get excited over little things, like a box of books featuring her favorite character:

Keeping each other warm on cold nights:

Playing squishy face:

Making silly faces in the selfie cam:

Teaching her the art of video games:

Watching her climb the playground equipment for the first time:

 Being able to wrap her up in a towel after bath:

Being able to give her a bath in the sink!

When they both fall asleep in the car:

When they light up with their whole face when they see you for the first time in a while.
Dance parties and singing out loud.
When they surprise me with something new they are able to do or say.

The Dichotomy of Motherhood

(Photo courtesy of my obliging hubby)

Motherhood is this strange dichotomy.

A constant push-and-pull between the needs of the present and the desires of the future.  For me, the needs of the present shout and cry and wave their petulant fists: "I need to do the dishes (because we are completely out)! I need to pack up the house! I need to take a shower! I need to get some SLEEEEEP!"  The shouting is usually when she is refusing naps, or not going to sleep at bedtime. (The crying occurs in the 3am hour.)

But at the same time, my knowledge of the desires of the future are like little whispers: "The dishes can wait. She's only small for so long. You'll miss this some day. Look at her little fingers holding onto your shirt. Listen to her little breaths. She won't let you do this when she's 12, or 16, or 25. Embrace it now."

So I hold her a little longer tonight. I watch her little chest rise and fall, watch her eyelids shudder as she begins a night of dreams. I know this time is so short. Tonight, I think of the future, and leave the dishes for later.

Avonlea Overheard, Vol. 13

We are out getting a drink, and Avonlea says, "I want a drink, too."
So I ask, "Oh really? What kind of drink do you want?"
And she says, "Umm...I will take a sweet tea. With light ice, please."

Avonlea Overheard, Vol. 12

Mom: Avonlea, do you want to go to Buffalo Wild Wings, or Applebee's?

Avonlea: I don't know what you're saying.
(Which is what I say to her when she mumbles or is using a new word J haven't deciphered yet.)

Avonlea Overheard, Vol. 11

Mom: What story do you want to read tonight, Avonlea?

(Avonlea picks up a Disney collection of stories, points to the Minnie Mouse story.)

Avonlea: The scratch story!

Mom: Oh, Avonlea. Mommy doesn't want to read that story. We read it all the time. I want to read a different one.

Avonlea: I know Mommy. But you need to be nice.