word of the day: musings \ˈmyüz-ing\ thoughtfully abstracted
It feels like most of my thoughts lately have been rather weighty. I've got some more ruminating nicely in the corners of my brain, so the order of the day is "thoughtfully abstracted."
Like this conversation Jake and I had the other day:
Me: The girls really need baths today. (heavy emphasis on really)
Me: Maybe we should take a walk and get some ice cream instead.
Jake: Yes. Let's do that.
Can we talk about Eastern Standard time for a second? Ninety-seven percent of the time, not such a bad thing. In fact, it makes staying up until eleven easier because a piece of my heart still resides in the Central Standard. But staying up until 11:32 to watch The Tonight Show? (Ok, I'll do it. But curses to the EST at 3:00 a.m. when I'm up with a baby).
I've been thinking lately about how elusive milestones are. Right before Norah was born, I thought I was in labor. I put Lily to bed that night thinking it'd be our last night just the two of us. I held her an extra five minutes and cried while I walked out of the room. Norah was born three days later; I'd savored a moment that wasn't even the last.
I think about that night a lot as I traverse the rapidly changing landscape of having a 2-year-old and an 8-month-old. Lily doesn't sleep in her crib anymore. One night she did, and the next afternoon she didn't. There was no long goodbye; it just happened.
And Norah sat at the table with us for dinner tonight. Just right across from me.
Elusive. I think I'm happier when the milestones slip through my fingers more quickly than I can grasp them. It's less stressful (at least I think).
Today Lily walked up to Norah, ripped her pacifier out of her mouth, and threw it across the room.
"You don't need that, k?" she said.
So, now I'm wondering how many times I tell Lily something and then say, "K?" If you want to know which words you say more than all the others, have a toddler and you'll find out real quick.
Lily and I made homemade croutons and homemade banana bread in the same day last week.
The long version of the story involves a book called "7" that wrecked my life. The short version of the story involves me french braiding my own hair and finding out that you have a lot of time to learn new things when you're a stay-at-home mom.
Jake says I should get some guest bloggers or that I should let him ghost write a post. I told him he could write the last sentence of this entry.
Get busy living or get busy dying.