“But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive:
for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts;
and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been,
is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life,
and rest in unvisited tombs.”
– George Eliot, Middlemarch
Heather Robinson
Amanda Voelker
they have been waiting for what feels like forever for you to open those sleepy eyes and finally see them.
today i mourn the loss of summer vacation. bright and painfully early this morning, summer passed away. big sister started her first day of school and daddy’s paternity leave ended. i have been dreading this day for weeks. but instead of throwing a massive temper tantrum, i fastened the baby to my chest, poured myself another cup of coffee, and tried not to obsessively watch the clock. i had many successes. i took everyone outside for a walk. actually it was to the end of the driveway and back inside because the baby had yet another poosplosion. but still. i fed you and your big brother lunch. well actually i fed you a couple cherry tomatoes, some cheddar duck crackers, a handful of pistachios, and two chocolate chip cookies. and by fed i mean you two helped yourselves to this well balanced meal while i sat on the couch nursing the baby. but still. i even found the energy to mop the kitchen floor. well actually it was one small section where the dog had drooled. and i wiped it up with my foot and a paper towel. but still. and by some strange miracle, you decided to crawl into your sleeping bag and fall asleep next to the couch while i nursed your baby brother for the 100th time today. all of this was accomplished and we still have 63 minutes until we pick up your sister from school and 185 minutes until daddy walks through that back door. i never said i was successful with the obsessive clock watching. but still.
we are big on do overs in our house. life is far far far from perfect. failure is inevitable. but we have to be gentle with ourselves and try try try again. yesterday was a failure. it was your first day at a new school. instead of helping you get ready or taking tons of photos of you wearing your new backpack or walking into your new classroom, i slept. daddy knew i was exhausted from being up most of the night with your baby brother so he took you to school. i was there to pick you up though and listen to you cry the whole way home about how much you hated your new school. i didn’t sleep much last night and not just because of the baby. i was stricken with my usual mommy guilt over not being there for you enough. but today was a new day. i drug myself out of bed, snapped this photo of you as you drew a picture for your new teacher, and then i smoothed your hair as i hugged you and told you that i hoped that today would be better. and you know what? it was.
my beloved number four, one day we will live in a house with more space. until then, you get to call every free corner of our home “your bedroom”.
