Long days, short years

{Thanks for the amazing comments on my last post! Keep them coming to be in the drawing for SBux. Tomorrow (Thanksgiving Day) is the last day to comment on that post to have a chance at some piping hot deliciousness. I'll still do the drawing on Friday sometime, but have another post in the wings waiting to come out and play. With pictures, this time;) }

Have you guys heard that phrase about how the days are long, but years are short? I feel like for me, in this season of life with two small children, it's the truth. There are days that I feel like I'm just going through the motions, trying to get from one hour to the next. How can it only be 5 pm? How many more hours until I can go to bed? How many tantrums can one toddler throw in 24 hours? How many times can one baby wake up during the night? Days (and nights) can be long.

And yet, the years go so fast it's shocking when I stop to really let things sink in. My Truman will be three in March. Cecelia is almost a half-of-a-year old. Where has the time gone? Did it all slip by me in a sleepless daze, filled with tears and uncertainty and anxiety? Or have I spent these years relishing in the beauty of these little lives that depend so heavily on their parents?

It's a mix, really. Highs and lows, happy days and sad ones. But yes---it really does pass by in a blink of an eye when you look at the big picture. But that doesn't mean that any particular Monday won't totally suck the life out of me in no time.

Woe is me.

I've gotten a few comments about how 'I don't know how you do it all, you super mom, you.' And while that comment is such a compliment, it also makes me think that maybe I'm painting a picture on this blog that life is totally perfect. And my friends, it's SO not. There are days that I feel like a total failure as a mom, a wife, an employee, and a friend. My patience runs thin with Truman when his bedtime is going on the ninetieth minute and I've made approximately 64 trips up and down the stairs for him. I sigh and feel myself get a tense and frustrated when I hear Cecelia squawk on the monitor at 9 pm. I hate when I haven't made eye contact with my husband in what feels like days, and I realize I haven't made the time to really connect to him enough. Sometimes my work life feels incredibly heavy and depressing and my house never seems to stay clean longer than 0.2 seconds. I realize that all of this is normal and it makes me human, far from 'super' anything. But sometimes all of the little things that seem to go wrong add up  and make me want to put a big 'BAD DAY' stamp on a set of 24 hours. And that's okay. Wine will be had at the end of said bad days and tomorrow is a fresh start.

But then there are the days when everything just seems to click together. And trust me when I say that I cherish those sweet moments of contentment when they float past me in this whirlwind of life. I just want to grab those moments by the cheeks and say, 'Stick around awhile, you precious gift of clarity.' Instead of doing that, I sometimes grab my camera to help me remember a time when perspective was king. Life is good. Life could be much, much worse. My problems are laughable compared to many others in the world. And I am so blessed it really does hurt my heart sometimes when I stop and actually think about it.

Sunday was a day of contentment (well for a few moments of the morning, at least). It was a lazy family day with nothing planned. The kids were in great moods, I got to run alone and outside, and we were getting really excited to have a short week of work and then a trip to see my family. I decided to give Cecelia a bath that morning which is totally unorthodox since we only do bedtime baths lately. But she needed the bath and I loved how I could take my time scrubbing this adorable chunk of child.

Is there anything better than a squeaky clean baby full of rolls and innocence and happiness? I think not.



















And after her bath:










Huh, I guess this turned out to be my Thanksgiving post. Nice and reflective and full of thanks.

Thank you, God, for this life. Even when it seems overwhelming and extraordinarily long. Thank you for these moments of clarity. And for wine.