Do I blog in winter?

I wish.

I was supposed to be blogging every other week this year. I made it to April. Or was it March? And I managed to eke out a few posts after Emmett was born.

And then, silence.

Not silence here, not in my house, certainly not.

Just silence on the blog.

And even now, I literally wiped my wet hands dry and left an overflowing counter of dirty dishes to perch quickly on my chair at the computer and write a few words.

“With Bells On” by Dolly Parton is on repeat. That’s how the boys often listen to music these days. One song, again and again and again. Alec is eating an enormous carrot from one of his grandmas (they both give us garden carrots). Sebastian is either playing with machines or driving a train, I’m not sure. Emmett is lying in the living room engrossed in a toy that I discovered under the couch for him.

But I know that by the time I even finish writing this, they’ll all have moved on to other things. They’ll all probably even be a week older. Emmett might be crawling. The marker the big boys drew on themselves with will have faded entirely. Their freshly cut nails will be long again. Maybe the floors will actually be clean, but probably not. Maybe the couches won’t be pushed together. Maybe there won’t be Alec’s fabric scraps scattered all over the floor. Maybe the laundry will be folded. Maybe the dishes will be done. And oh joy of joys, maybe the baseboards will all be wiped.

But probably not.

I can hardly breathe some days. It’s literally one thing to the next all day long, and even then, something always suffers. I have to decide between the dishes and the floors, between the laundry and the baths. When did the baby last have a bath? Do we have any spoons left? Does Eric have at least one clean pair of work pants? (He didn’t this morning.)

And don’t even get me started with the mopping. Or the windows. Or the dusting. Or the vacuuming. It all happens eventually (except the windows), but by the time I get one of those big projects done all the others are there knocking on the door again. (Why do houses have to get so filthy dirty anyway??)

So no, I don’t blog anymore. Maybe not even in winter.

I’m off to get the other boy a carrot now. Who knows when (if ever) I’ll get back to this.

. . . . .

Alec showed Sebastian how to get his own carrot. The baby got moved from the floor to the exersaucer. The fabric mess is spread farther and wider.

And I am here debating just posting this, as is.

This isn’t how I blog. But I don’t have time for all the caveats. You know . . . I’ve wanted to be a mom my entire life. I wouldn’t trade this for anything. I love my boys. I’m so thankful for everything I’ve been given.

Some days I do better at remembering that this is just a stage. Just a phase. And one I’ll be missing soon enough.

When I look at it that way, I about can’t bear it.

So I’ll take my messy floors and my never-ending to-do list because with it comes little boy laughter and a baby with two new teeth and funny things said and naughty things done. I came out groggy-eyed and somewhat haggard this morning, and Alec said, “More beautiful than I was expecting.”

About his very tired, very raggedy old pj-ed mother.

“More beautiful than I was expecting.”

I guess that’s how I’ll choose to look at this stage of life I’m in, too.

(And I guess I did have time for some caveats. 😊)