Once again, it's been a long time since I've blogged. Anything. I used to be really good at blogging. I managed to use my caring bridge journal page to keep everyone in my life updated when Brynleigh and Victoria were born, were in the hospital and then died. I kept everything up to date through 2 adoptions on my "heart for adoption" blog. (which got hacked and then ultimately ended up being completely lost to me
This has been the theme of the last few months. In October, I went to a women's retreat. One of the ladies there shared an article she read in a magazine. In the story, the woman writing was celebrating her 36th birthday. She and her friend were sharing a piece of cake and talking about the years ahead. The gist of it was that so much of our lives are spent waiting for "better" times to come. I really related to it, on many levels. I celebrated my 36th birthday in November and realized I'm guilty. Of all of it. When you're a kid, you can't wait to be 16 so you can drive a car, 18 so you can be an "adult," 21 so you can drink. If you go to college, you can't wait for this class to be over, can't wait to graduate, have a career. I couldn't wait to be married and have a family. When I got married, it was all about what comes next. Kids. When I was pregnant, I didn't enjoy it. I couldn't wait for it to be over so I could hold that child in my arms and see it's beautiful and perfect face. Through sleepless nights and colic, teething and tantrums, I couldn't wait for this phase to be over. Lugging that heavy infant car seat around everywhere made me groan and rub my sore shoulder and announce "Walking can't come soon enough!" Frustrated fits led me to throw my hands up in desperation and say "I can't wait until you can communicate! Use your words!" Toddler messes and self inflicted hair cuts and things shoved in noses and ears. . . all phases to wish away when you are cleaning up ruined make up and scattered scraps of hair or when you are making yet another visit to the ER to have a Lego extracted from an orifice. (take your pick) I didn't realize that time was doing exactly what I want it to stop doing today. Passing me by. I want to be content in today. I want to enjoy each stage my children are in. Even if it means enjoying what many parents dread. . .
Suddenly, I have so much to say. So much I want to remember. I wish I could rewind and freeze time just for a bit longer so that I could teach my (younger) self that infant car seats will be gone way too soon and with it that smell of "milk breath" and the dimples on the backs of their hands and those extra creases in their forearms. I would tell my younger me that sleepless nights mean extra snuggles and that tantrums often end in shared naps with baby curls in sweaty curlicues on a sweet, soft cheek.
******* EDITED TO ADD****** My friend Toni shared this song with me and I just had to add it here as well. Thanks Toni!