Adulthood.

At age 28 with 2.5 kids in tow it has finally hit me that I am in charge.  I guess up until this point we've just been winging it.

The reality check scenario this morning:

7AM I can hear the kids up watching Little Bear or something in the front room but my eyes won't open because they burn so much from lack of sleep due to Ambrose being up in the night a couple of nights ago and the baby in my womb practicing his wild kung-fu insistently each night from about 10PM - 12AM.

Thomas is already gone to work and it's all up to me.

Both boys need to be fed and dressed.  I need to be fed and dressed.  Asher has school at 7:50 and Ambrose is still in the midst of this dang Kindergarten transition so he's going to hang out with Grandma for a bit today while I teach my class.

Lunches need to be made.  People need breakfast.  A notebook needs to be written in.  Did I prepare the quiz for my students today?  Do I have enough clean underwear to get dressed for work today?  Did I remind Asher's teachers I will be picking him up early for his ENT appt?  AH! I need to remember to refill Ambrose's allergy prescription I can hear him sneezing up a storm over there.  When are those library books due again? I still need to find somewhere for Ambrose to play on Wednesday while I teach my class... 

And there's the elementary school bugle ringing through the community to signal the start of the school day. "COME ON ASHER BOY YOU CAN'T CARE WHAT KIND OF SHOES YOU ARE WEARING TODAY!  Slippers- on- now- come on.  Earth to Ambrose! Come on son- we can't watch any cartoons in our jammies during breakfast if you can't get a move on in the morning." Ok, out the door!

I feel like Kindergarten transition is so long and drawn-out, but it strangely feels familiar.  Maybe the last five years have been real adulthood/motherhood transition and I have had plenty of time to get my act together and yet I am still sitting in front of my morning cartoons, with bedhead and jammies, blinking at the responsibility nagging me in the face to get a move on!

We'll get it down.  Right?

This is the night I became a mother:

And it's been a hard, crazy, fun ride ever since!

Grateful for my family this Mother's Day and my Mama who taught me by example.

Just being together.

As my boys get older and older I find myself having more fun everyday-- just being together. They say funny, unique things in cute little voices that will crack and get deeper someday and then maybe not want to talk so much about every observation of fleeting thought under the sun. I hope these long, unscheduled days of talking about the big, little, inconsequential, or surprisingly philosophical things will strengthen our bond so when those years (when they'd rather talk to their friends or the girls they like) come, hopefully, talking to me will be a natural part of our routine.

All that is to say: these boys are my buddies now and that's gotta count for something later. :)

These days are long.

I took these one lazy afternoon last week. We have a lot of lazy afternoons now that I am working in the early morning.





I am grateful for this even if I don't always enjoy every second.

My friend sent me a really good article about the life of a stay-at-home mother and how we don't have to seize the day or enjoy and savor every little moment. If this seems confusing or counter-intuitive to what you have been told by magazines, blogs, and other well-meaning moms-- you are in the same boat I was when I first read the article's title, but JUST READ IT and it will make sense.

I love my children and we have happy moments together and I am so glad to be in a position right now where I can be with them pretty much all day long, but it is not always fun, easy, or even completely worthwhile and fulfilling. There are days when I am counting down the nano-seconds until I can toss their whiny little selves into bed so I can get a second of peace, there are embarrassing public displays of tantrums and me losing it in front of a line of childless independents with snide or disapproving looks on their faces, there are frequently more time-outs than "blog worthy" moments, and there are moments of longing for a life outside of my current one. A well-dressed, carefree, late-night out, jet-set kind of life. I will be honest enough to admit that.

But for some reason, no matter how long the day has been or how many times Asher had to hug his brother and say sorry or how many times Ambrose went bat-crazy over treats... I want more. MORE MORE MORE. I want more. And I want to be better and I never, ever want to give up and I want to sneak in their sleepy, dark bedroom to gaze at their puffy cheeks breathing in and out and hold their soft, limp little hands in mine and just breathe in the thick, dreamy air.

I wake up sleepy, but my heart beats faster as soon as I hear their drowsy little voices, groggily asking for something outrageous and just before my temper spikes at such an unreasonable request I catch a glimpse of their wild tufts of bedhead.

These days are long, but not forever, and I do not have to enjoy every single moment, but I am so grateful they are mine.