Life Again

There's never a day which is completely yours. BUT there is one day when it feels like the whole universe is saying: Here. This is Life. It's yours again for the taking.

I'm talking about birthdays. The day Life was given to you like it was the best gift ever - and it was given like all other great gifts: quietly, dramatically, with all the boom bands playing, almost unnaturally natural way. If you think I'm contradicting myself with all these descriptives, you'd be right. I am. Life does it, too. Contradict itself. And that's it in the grand scale. But I'm veering off course drastically here, so let me go back.

Birthdays. It seems as if I've been writing a lot about birthdays. What to say to that? I love them. I celebrate them. I celebrate Life.

A friend decided her birthday wasn't going to be just another day. She celebrated it with her students. And, boy, did they love it. Who doesn't like chocolate cake?

Everyone loved it. Slices disappeared faster than they could be served on a plate.  Before we knew it, there was only one slice left. That went to the birthday girl, ofcourse. The more, the merrier.  The last ones go to where they belong.

Life is so good.  And chocolate cake is so very delicious.

Snippity Snip

I believe in God.

How else is it possible for life to be designed so that the pain a mother may feel when the apron strings are finally snipped is minimized?

I remember when this little boy was a tiny wisp of a future. I remember his Moby days when he slept right next to my skin when we went out to town. I recommend the Moby to all moms - we hold them close for only so long. Don't miss any second of it. Babywearing is not just a fashion statement nor a back-to-basics fad: it is your chance to hold your baby close for as long as you can. I love the Moby and what it gave me and my son.

This tiny wisp of a future just inhaled all the Life he could and moved from being in the stroller to walking on his own when we go out. This surely feels nothing like the warmth of the Moby. My heart was walking around untethered and exposed to the dangers of escalators, weariness and too-open spaces. I suppose this is why mothers are such strong people - our heart walks around and we simply have to steel ourselves to the fact that we are so open and vulnerable to all there is in the world. The only other choice is to forever hold our heart close and away from the world - but what kind of mother would do that to her child?

My little sweetheart is letting the scissors angle yet again as he started to let go of the stroller this weekend - and I can't even think of holding the blade back. He's 18 months and he's teaching me about strength and how much one can bear for a little bit of Life to grow. Now how can something that connected and complicated and intertwined exist within the structure of Life if there wasn't an All-knowing Architect designing it all?

I'm glad I have someone who has such a light heart walking this road with me. He brings so much laughter into our days. His take on life is much lighter than mine so I lean on him when I feel the heavy texture of my mother days.

And I watch my son lean on him as the little one learns about life. I'm so very glad Elijah has his hand to hold and his footsteps to follow. They make Life look like a friend asking to come over to play just because.

Can you see how much I love my time with my boys? 

A cherry on top: a bag for my expanding passion.

The weekend was good. Thank You, God. God bless us all as we dive into Life and another week!

At the Train Station

The train is coming so you better watch out!

The carriages have been waiting for passengers at the station and here they are all ready to show themselves to the viewer.

Alright. That's not all true. The train did not wait by choice. The days were simply too short and too filled with things to do. There's always something to do. My days are so stuffed that I fall asleep before I start getting bored. And, that's all good. I'd rather be busy then bored. In days like these, though, something's gotta give. And this little whiteboard of mine had its turn.

While I wasn't writing here, I was living Life. Letting its exciting blood run through my veins to push me to go at it bursting with adrenaline. I have no idea where it all came from but I managed to write a few entries for the school blog I contribute to.

I was also part of an exhilirating PhotoMarathon!

I wrote about it in my PhotoBlog and the Canon people noted my blog entry in its Facebook page! How exciting is that?!?! *grin*

I've also spent a lot of time watching my son grow up. My little baby is fast becoming a little boy and his poor mom just doesn't know how to catch up.

The little boy he is becoming has been showing itself more and more in the toddler he is now. As much as I love saying hello to that little man with eyes filled with wonder and glee, I dread the day when I realise that the toddler has said goodbye for the last time. So I spend time and time and time.

Cross my fingers in the hope that I don't miss a thing.

Thooooooooooooot! Thooooooooooooot! Watch out the train is coming! (And there are days when it waits for no one.)

Perfect Sundays

. 10 . 10 . 10 .

Perfect marks for a perfect day.

I love Sundays. I love the laziness I feel with it. I love the way time lingers on this day above all days. I love the rich creaminess it brings to my week.

It is a day for just being. Being who you want to be when the days are long and breezy; when the air brings scent from the ocean; when the warmth lulls you to a plane of yellow creamballs and soft daffodils.

I love being a mom when these Sundays come. And I love watching my two simply enjoy each other during these honey days. I watch them and I think of cubs as they tumble and rough-house and giggle and laugh.

Joseph Addison said it right: Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week. Brings us out of the old and into the new all bright and shiny! Woohoo for Sundays!

(And a tiny wave for hello and goodbye.)