I feel like I am still in recovery mode from that extra unexpected week of Christmas vacation. Everyone is back in school, and my washer and dryer haven't stopped since. I tackled the boy's room yesterday-I don't remember when the last time was that I washed all the blankets and sheets and that means it has been too long. I organized their closets and toy bins and shelves and purged (just a little) and vacuumed and cracked open a window to let some fresh air in. It was a balmy 45 degrees yesterday!
Yesterday evening I took the boys for a walk around the block and noticed the sky turning pink. We took a quick ride to the river to watch the sun sink. The river is beautiful but always very scary to me-I don't know why-it's just big and always cold and swift and has a strong under current (or so I hear). There were huge chunks of ice flowing in it. Every time we are near the river I seem to give my kids warnings and try to scare the bejibbers out of them so they never do anything stupid. Andrew said, "Wouldn't it be fun to hop on one of those icebergs and float down?" This of course launched me into, "Oh my gosh you could never do that, it wouldn't hold you, you'd sink and then the cold water would make your heart stop and blah blah blah." He looked at me like I was crazy because he wasn't going to really DO it, he was just imagining doing it. But those imaginings of boy adventures sometimes make my blood run cold.
This little girl-seventeen months old-is showing a little side of sassy pants. She reminds me a little of Abbey when she was little, maybe it's a girl thing. She wants it the way she wants it and if you don't get the way she wants it, she'll have no problem letting you know that you've made a grave error.
She has been helping me organize and clean and straighten which means she undoes about 30% of what I do. I don't think it's a terrible ratio-not enough to make me frustrated or warrant an excuse to stop and she enjoys it so we move forward and she keeps me company.
I've been thinking so much about the 20 years I've been home raising my kids. I love being home, if you have read this blog you know that by now. Not because it's easy, because it's certainly not always, just because I know deep in my heart that babies and toddlers and little ones need their mommies. It's not the 'popular' thing to say because it's against what our culture wants us mothers to believe-that we're replaceable, and I know it's not always possible, in spite of the big sacrifices that most of us at-home moms have made at some point in our lives. I would have and did and still would do absolutely anything to make it happen though. I think nature intended for mothers and their little ones to be close by-it's part of our growth and their growth and bonding and just plain old human development.
I had a whole big essay I wanted to write (not that I haven't written about the subject enough) but I can't because Miss-Janey-Unreliable-Napper-Pants just woke up and I'm going to feed her lunch and then we might take a walk, or finish the wash, or play with her teapot. So that will do for now.