Ordinary Days

This post contains no photos, just so you know. But nonetheless, I feel it is an important one. Like it or not, this blog has become more of a journal than I ever intended it to. I thought this was all about Beck, his milestones, changes, and growth...and it is still. But, as our lives become more and more entwined as a family, his milestones and changes become ours. He is now the center of our lives, and sometimes, it is only in looking back that we (I) can truly see how quickly time passes, and how much I already ache to have his little boy-ness back again. I feel sad in realizing that I can't remember his laugh from a year ago, or the subtle baby gestures, or his smell...except for what I have written on this blog. Some days are hard, as all parents can attest to. The range of emotions in the span of one day is impossible to fathom...everything from awe and pride to boredom and frustration, and ultimately to Love. Sometimes, it can be hard to take a step back and just enjoy the day. I found a wonderful post from another mother and talented writer, who perfectly summed up, for me, what it is to be a mother:

"...By the time the movie is over, it's almost midnight. I finish packing the swimming bag for the morning. The towels were already ready -- they were yesterday's, already dry and folded. The suits are hanging on pegs by the front door. I add a change of clothes for both children, tuck the sunscreen and goggles back into their respective pockets. As I fold the now-clean towels from today and set them aside for Friday morning, I realize that Friday is our last day of swimming lessons for the summer. It makes me a little bit wistful, knowing that I'm folding the last towels of the season. It occurs to me, as I take my vitamins, brush my teeth, and turn out the lights, that packing the swimming bag is love. It seems so simple, so obvious. But it's really love. It's one of the many small and not-so-small things that I do every day, out of love.

My life is both lonely and very full; it's both average and extraordinary. Yesterday's drudgery might be today's blessing -- or, perhaps, the other way around. It can be so easy to lose sight of these everyday blessings in the midst of hard work, a crying baby, arguing children, chaos, boredom, exhaustion, distractions. We want every day to offer an epiphany, a moment of catharsis, or peace, or contentment. But some days don't seem to offer anything at all.

Here's the secret: it's not easy. It will never be easy. It's much easier to fall into the trap of sleepwalking through these ordinary days, not realizing that, like each tree in a forest or pearl on a necklace, each one is both part of the whole, and a unique treasure of its own.

A wise friend of mine remarked recently, "The way you spend your days is the way you spend your life."

Here's to spending each day mindfully, living fully, loving with our whole hearts. "

Future Olympian

Not that we have extremely high hopes for him or anything, but, Beck does love to ski. Even with barely any snow on the ground, he's on them whenever we can get outside. Mostly he just shuffles along, but he tries to use the poles, and we can usually get a solid laugh out of him if we push from behind and let him glide. On the second-child front, he still looks at us like we're crazy when we talk about mama having "a baby in her belly". Mostly he just sees that I'm too exhausted on many days to play as hard as usual.