Sometimes I'll glance at these strange little faces in front of me and remind myself "these are my children". What?! I have kids? But I'm too young for that...too crazy...too spontaneous. Who would ever entrust me with the care of two humans who depend on me to teach them the ways of the world? This is INSANE!
Raising little humans reminds me that there is a lot of wonder left to be discovered in the nooks and crannies of life. Days full of whining and laundry and cleaning up after their "creations" again and again can begin to feel like a dead end. I want to throw my hands up and shout "That's it! I've hit the ceiling here! There's nowhere to go and nothing new under the sun. My sanity is somewhere at the bottom of a laundry basket which will never be found since those shirts won't fold or put themselves away. I'm spent."
And then I look around. I take a deep breath and just observe for a moment.
|The cuteness is real, but it's often hard to tell |
whether the illness/injury of the day is or not.
I can't decide if I'm raising actresses or hypochondriacs half the time.
|Isn't this beautiful? |
It's a drawing my daughter did of her and her sister...
on the OTTOMAN in their play room.
|Scribbles on the wall.|
|Mountains and mountains.|
Parenthood is a great mystery. It's silly, boring, unpredictable, inspiring, ugly and completely glorious. It's life.