The moments

I love my kids, they are so fun and most days I mourn the fact Tully and Tessa are in school most of the day. I miss them when they are gone and I feel like I don't get enough time with them. There are some weeks though that even when I'm missing them during the day I absolutely can't wait for them to go to bed at night. My fierce longing for them during the day is suddenly replaced by the overwhelming need for them to be quiet, to stop fighting and for the love, to please stop touching me.  On those days where I feel like that, the second they fall asleep, their hair matted to their heads, lightly snoring, looking years younger my heart breaks into a million pieces and my love for them threatens to choke me, it is so all consuming. I want to freeze time and live each moment over again. I wonder how I can do better tomorrow?
My kids are old enough that I know these feelings change weekly. As much as I can't wait for bedtime freedom some days, other days I can't get enough of them. They are constantly changing and reminding me that these years are fleeting. I miss the days of more than one toddler running through the house. My favorite times are late sunny afternoons when all 3 kids are playing in the backyard. These times fill me with excitement for the future and a longing for days that I can't get back.
I have a goal. One I will fail many times, one I will sucseed in many times. Appreciate the moments.

A Mother's Prayer.

There are moments.
Snippets, frozen time.
There is fighting, time outs, too much laundry, and never enough me time.
There is an abundance of grace that I will never deserve.

There is resting with my son and telling him crazy stories that I make up as we go along.
"Mom?" he whispers, "can you do this every night?"
"What?" I say
"Make up crazy stories that aren't true." He snuggles deeper into my chest.

Tonight that same boy went into a room where a restless baby brother tried to fall asleep. That same boy who just yesterday was a baby himself, started singing.
My heart froze, and broke, and swelled and filled with heat and with more love than one can handle.
He sung.
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, O come O Come Emanuel, O Come All Ye Faithful.
He kept singing. The baby settled.

The minutes froze in my Mothers heart.
My prayer. My mantra. My desire.
Please Lord. Let these years pass slowly.

Seeking Heat

In many ways I'm a lot like my Dad. I love to read, I keep calm in emergencies, I like it when people thing I'm funny and I don't mind being the life of the party around my friends.
I also like to sleep with the windows open. I torture Matt for most of the year, making him sleep with the window open because I need air. I like the room to be chilly and to feel snug under my covers. I like to be able to hear the sound of the rain. Really hear it, not faintly but as if I am standing under it. When Matt complains that he's cold, I add another blanket to our bed, I turn on the heater in the early morning hours so that it won't be to cold when he wakes up, I make him a cup of tea.
When I was growing up our house was cold FREEZING. My Dad constantly refused to turn the heater on. He was more in favor of piling on layer after layer of precious Patagonia gear. I can remember vividly all of the times my sister and I complained that we were freezing, he would look at us, dressed in our socks, sweats, uggs, and sweatshirts, huddling under our down comforters and staring at our breath (that last part might be an exaggeration) and it was as if we were walking around in our swimsuits. "Put more clothes on!" he would say. As if every teenage girl is dying to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror looking like she lives in an igloo. As a teenager I would sunbathe until I was so hot that I couldn't take it, then I would go inside to cool off. It almost as good as having a pool, the cold air would hit me and it was only a few minutes until I was back outside, seeking the warmth of the sun.
This weekend our house is being tented and we are staying at my parents while they're in Mammoth (a place my Dad love to turn the heat on). When I was packing up all of our stuff to come here there was a long list of things that couldn't stay in our house. Down comforters wasn't one of them but they were the first things I threw in the car. Every. Single. One. My kids were not going to freeze to death while at Grandma & Grandpas.
Guess what we did last night? Cranked up that heater! It sputtered and spewed like it wasn't sure what to do if it went past 60. I'm not going to lie, it was still cold. Apparently heaters that never get used don't work that well. Go figure. This morning we cranked it up even higher though and everyone was happy.
Sorry Dad. It's going to be a long weekend. You can send me the bill.