Once upon a time, I liked to write. So I started a blog. And I wrote for a while. Then I had babies. And I quit writing.
"I wish I still blogged," I told Eric a few nights ago. "I'd love to read it in five years. Or fifty."
So here’s a post about nothing really . . . nothing but the little boys who aren’t quite my everything, but just about. 🙂
Alec Daniel. Sebastian James. ...continue reading
We sold our house on Mahan Loop yesterday. The first house we ever owned. I still remember how blessed we felt to get that house. We’d been looking at either junkers or very small houses because that’s all that was in our price range, and no matter how badly we wanted to get out of Newberg, we didn’t want it badly enough to put our money down on just anything.
Then 983 Mahan Loop came on the market. We looked at it for all of twenty minutes and made an offer. It was above and beyond anything we’d seen yet, in size and quality, and we just loved it. It needed a lot of work, but with the help of Eric’s family and mine, we got it painted and cleaned, and from then on it was just turning a blind eye to the unpaintable caulk and the nasty trim. The pretty blue walls and the wide-open floor plan made that easy to do, for me at least. Eric commented about the trim probably at least once a month. 🙂
We lived there for just over three years. That house saw us go to Australia and back, the trip of a lifetime. It saw me surprising Eric with not one, but two, positive pregnancy tests. It wrapped around us, cozy and dark, as first one boy and then the other burst into this world. We moved into that house as a couple; we moved out as a family. That house saw Eric grow his business, so much so that the lack of parking was one of the biggest reasons we decided to move on. It saw baby showers and Sunday lunches and late-night conversations. It hosted various of our out-of-state siblings and their families. It listened as we learned how to be parents. (It heard a lot of late-night crying.) It became our home, a safe place, a place to always return to. For a while every time we walked in the door, Alec would say excitedly, “We’re home!” ...continue reading
I read Psalm 90 this morning. It was a little hard to concentrate with “There’s a Hole in the Bucket” droning on and on in the background, but verse 12 made me pause.
“So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”
That verse is so familiar. It’s been underlined in my Bible for who knows how long. But it caught me this morning.
These days I’m in feel endless, sometimes in good ways, sometimes in bad. They are overwhelming and frustrating, and at the same time they are so full of laughter and joy. Surely there will always be a naughty toddler saying so sweetly, “I yike it,” when he has something he’s not supposed to have. Surely there will always be a fat, little boy giggling every time I let water from a cup touch his lips. Surely there will never come a night that a little voice doesn’t call for me. Surely there will never come a day that I don’t write down a memory or snap a quick picture of these darling boys.
For some reason, numbering my days feels so foreign right now. ...continue reading
Day #1 of Trying to Write This Blog Post: It's evening. The boys are in bed, the to-do list is completely crossed off, the husband is pricing work, and I am just sitting down to the computer with my coffee.
"I just know as soon as I sit down, one of the boys will yell," I say to Eric. I sit down. I drink some coffee. I edit a picture.
Sebastian yells.
Day #2 of Trying to Write This Blog Post: It's afternoon. It's a short to-do list kind of day (after all, does my husband really need more shirts ironed when he still has so many hanging in the closet?). The boys are down for their naps, the ones that they almost always take at the same time, the ones where they sometimes sleep for hours. Sebastian hasn't slept much at all this morning, so he should be ready for a good, long sleep. Alec has already had a very abnormal morning nap, but he was extra grumpy, and he didn't sleep long, and yesterday he napped for almost two and a half hours, so I'm hopeful he'll have at least another hour in him. I grab a fresh cup of coffee and sit down at the computer.
Alec talks. I go tell him to lie down. He keeps talking. I drink some coffee, write some words, upload some pictures. Alec talks. I shush him. I write some more. I delete a picture. Alec talks. I finish my coffee. Alec is still talking.
Sebastian wakes up.
Day #3 of Trying to Write This Blog Post: It's afternoon. The laundry is half-done, the floors are half-swept, the ironing still hasn't been touched, but the boys are both napping, and I have fresh coffee.
Please don't yell, anyone.
If it wasn’t for Daddy, we never would go
Up in the mountains or out in the snow.
Mom doesn’t like driving or going about—
That’s why we need Daddy when we want to go out.
If it wasn’t for Daddy, we never would fly
Up in the air from his strong arms, so high.
Mama is great for so many things—
But she don’t got what it takes to give us our wings. ...continue reading
