What I Want You to Know: A Letter to My Daughter

I want you to know that I love being your mother
From the moment you were nestled into my arms the night you were born, I knew you were exactly where you were meant to be -- in our family. You have been my Little Love since that moment; my {literal} dream come true. I have taken, very seriously, my role to love and nurture and guide you. I have done a good job and I have done a bad job. I have succeeded and failed. I have tried to love you well. You have taught me right back how to love well. Because you, Sweet Girl, you love people well.

I want you to know that I love being your teacher
Sometimes it's challenging and sometimes it's downright frustrating, but I love those moments when your eyes light up because you've worked a multiplication problem in your head and come up with the right answer or when you quickly read through several sentences before realizing how well you're reading. I love watching you paint and create art. I love watching you slip away into a world all your own, where you mix colors into new hues that match the ones you hold in your dreamy mind. I love watching you use two or three paintbrushes at a time, because that's how eager you are to create.

I want you to know that I cherish my memories of your first few years
when you and I had lots of one-on-one time.
 I have such fond memories of those years of nursing you, rocking you, feeding you, bathing you, dressing you, playing with you, snuggling you, reading to you, taking you for walks and watching you grow and learn and fall in love with the world around you.

I want you to know that I love watching you be a big sister
Sometimes you get overzealous and sometimes you act before you think, but mostly... mostly you are protective and sweet, compassionate and caring, adoring and a great friend to Natalie. You are a great friend to me, too.

  

I want you to know that I have fabulous ideas of how to teach you and how to raise you and how to ensure you feel as special as you are
Sometimes my energy runs out before I can make those ideas into realities, and I hate that. So we learn to modify. Maybe today I can't take you for a walk to the playground, but I can sit in a lawn chair in the backyard and watch you swing high into the air, your corn silk hair flying out behind you like streamers on a bicycle. Maybe I can't bake cookies today but I can sit with you and read Sarah, Plain and Tall and watch you fall in love with the characters of Caleb and Anna and Seal, the cat.

I don't know what God plans for marvelous you, Hannah, but I know they are marvelous plans.

I just want to take this moment to thank you for what you have taught me and for all the love you have brought to my life.

Not Good Enough vs Just Right

As hard as I try to convince myself otherwise, there are going to be some days in which I can't succeed like I want to; success won't look like I envision. I won't be able to make my life look like what I think it should. It will be exhaustion and low-grade fever and pain that's hard to bear.

It will be a cottage full of Mama Bear and Baby Bears in pajamas at nearly 3 p.m.

That's chronic pain for you. That's chronic illness.

It will also be a chance to slow down that we wouldn't otherwise take; a chance to wear fuzzy pink slippers and bathrobes and pile into a big bed that's just the right size and read a big pile of storybooks.

It will be time to learn some Spanish. Time to discuss manners, sibling relationships, trying new foods, the science in the natural world.

It will be time for cuddling close -- for a 4 year-old head on my shoulder, and a 7 year-old hand, tanned brown from summer sun, resting on me.

It will be time slowed down.

And this evening when Papa Bear comes home from work, the house may not be clean, the table may have gone unused for schooling, but we will be calm and loving, and we will have learned and grown today, and we will be a little bit closer for this time we told to slow down and the hours we cuddled close and knit our hearts together.

Isn't that the success I envision?

Muffin Theology

Natalie & I were making muffins today. I was giving her little jobs to do, as she likes to help. She put the paper liners in the tin, then asked if she could stir the batter. As I added in the ingredients, she stirred, careful not to slosh the mixture over the edges of the bowl. "If I do a really good job, Mama, do you think you will give me more things to do?"


Oh Precious Girl.... This is what I want my heart's cry to be too: "If I do a really good job, Father God, will you give me more things to do?"


If I use my small amounts of faith and patience, will You give me more?


If I give my time and talents, will You give me more?


If I do a really good job loving those You've placed in my life, will You give me more love?


You know what is great? Not only does He tell us that when we are faithful in small things, He will give us more, He also says even when I do not do a good job, even when I go and mess things up badly, He always has more love and more grace to give.

Only Dad

"Only Dad's allowed in. He's my helper," Natalie (4) explains, guarding her blockaded bedroom door. She plots and schemes and dreams, and she wants her dad to always be included, and I inhale inspiration. This is how I should be too.

Later, Daddy leaves a note for the girls on their art easel, and this inspires me too, because I know God gives us signs that He loves us. I've seen them before and I'll see them again, and I want to always remember to look.

Thoughts on Chronic Illness

"Is your back hurting you, Mama?" a cool little hand slides up my shirt and rubs my back.

Most mornings, my room is her first stop after waking. She slips in quietly, reheats my heating pad, and returns to tuck it over a nagging shoulder, a back that feels broken, or a throbbing hip.

Heat quiets the pain and promises soothe my fear.

His promise to love in sickness or in health.
His promise never to leave or forsake me.

Chronic illness crept in and changed our lives. It doesn't affect just me. It changes our marriage, our family; the rhythms of everyday life.

Today I sit in pain, as if a cloak of discomfort has been settled over my shoulders and wraps around my entire body. I feel like a turtle that just can't get up to speed. But I sit assured by the love my family has for me, something chronic illness hasn't changed. I'm still his wife, still that girl he fell in love with over a decade ago. I'm still their mama, and despite the limping and fatigue and feeling decades older than I am, I'm still the one who bakes cookies, reads stories, and braids wet hair.

I'm still me, and I'm still loved. Chronic illness doesn't change that.

Too Much Fun

Had to share this video I made with my four year-old. She talks about her day

involving church,

 lunch with family,

art,

 tea and cookies

 and about her love for her daddy.

Hope your weekend is "too much fun" as well.

Snow Days to Remember

Recipe for a Memorable Snow Day:

Snow

2 Sweet Girls

Hot Coffee & Hot Cocoa

Movies & Blankets

Coats & Mittens

Cookie Baking

Mix together. Photograph each part. Slow down & Enjoy!

"Winter is the time of promise because there is so little to do -

or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so."

Stanley Crawford

I'll Remember...

Last night, after my little girls were tucked in and sleeping snugly, I got to work...

I set the table for Valentine's morning with place mats, doilies, china tea cups & saucers, chocolates and candy hearts and tiny dishes filled with heart-shaped marshmallows.

In the center of the table, I filled a little tin basket with tiny notebooks and pens. {Because you just never know who you'll want to jot a little note to on Valentine's Day.}

I went to bed, snug in the arms of the man who has been my Valentine for the last 9 years, and fell asleep to music we listened to when we were dating.

Early this morning, I woke to the sound of little girls, as usual. I got up, eager to implement the day's plans...

Their little faces, 4  and 7, were filled with wonder as Hannah proclaimed,

"This is the BEST Valentine's Day EVER!"

and Natalie asked, "Can I eat my chocolate NOW?"

We had cinnamon rolls and apple slices and yogurt. Little girls had hot cocoa with marshmallows, while Jonathan & I enjoyed coffee with chocolate raspberry creamer.

For one morning, Mama was not ill. Mama was not in pain. All the world was magic. {That's what they'll remember.}

I'll remember their faces, full of delight, and Hannah saying,

"Valentine's Day is a day to let all your love out...
That's what it's all about."

I'll remember the handmade card she made me that said,

The BeST DaYes Kum Wenn You ARe NIR

{the best days come when you are near}

I'll remember little Natalie, sidling up beside me to wordlessly rub my back now and then.

I'll remember my husband walking in the front door at the end of the day, tall and handsome, carrying a bouquet of red tulips and an envelope which read

Jennifer
My
Love

That's what I'll remember.

What will you remember?

Sweet Sisters

Today was one of those stressful days where there's far too much to squeeze into the hours. Both of my girls have colds and are well enough to be running around, but just sick enough to be whiny.

I was in the middle of cleaning and turned around to see both girls cuddled into the nook of our love seat, Hannah's arm around Natalie while she read aloud from a library book. Just for those few minutes they were still and sweet. I love their sweet sister moments.

Health, Happiness & Homeschooling

It's been a while since I've written about my health and I thought I'd post an update. I was diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis in September. Our first attempts at official treatment have helped quite a bit, especially with morning stiffness and overall ability to function. I am still in pain everyday, and still have days that my energy is compromised. I sometimes limp, due to hip problems, knee problems, or difficulty with foot pain. Sometimes I still run low-grade fevers and feel flushed and ill, but not as often as before. I still don't feel well, but am very thankful to be feeling better!

I try my best to maintain a positive attitude, choose joy, and find myself seizing opportunities more often, as there is always the possibility that my mobility may be greatly effected in the future. There's fear in that uncertainty, but I am learning to take joy in the gift of today, and not worry about tomorrow.

On vacation, laughing at the bottom of my first sledding run

Homeschooling continues and I love seeing the girls learn new things, grasp new concepts, and see Hannah's reading improve. I love seeing them dash to the kitchen table to pull out workbooks, journals, markers, crayons, scissors, tape & glue. One of the things that most excited me about homeschooling was the flexibility, more time with my girls, and the ability to emphasize a love of learning, literature and creativity, in addition to the basics of education. 

We have a lot of fun reading aloud together. (We are currently reading the Betsy, Tacy & Tib series, the All-of-a-Kind Family series, the Grandma's Attic series, and the Samantha {American Girl} books, all of which feature little girls living in early-to-mid 1900s.) 

We recently took a family vacation to the snow. We had a WONDERFUL time making snowmen, sledding, swimming and simply being together. Christmas movies, a good book, a constantly crackling fire, and hot cocoa made it even better.

My little family

Sledding with Hannah - Willing us both to remember this moment

Sweet Sisters & their snowman with the icicle nose!

Hannah's two front teeth are coming in just in time for Christmas, and we are just around the corner from her 7th birthday.

Natalie just turned 4 and we celebrated her birthday on vacation. She loves coloring and working in her preschool workbooks and LOVES bunnies.

And now, home from vacation, we are accelerating into full-steam-ahead Christmas mode. Our little family adores this time of year and all of the traditions and memory making, like pumpkin pancakes & coffee before tree-hunting, making cookies, the music & the must-see-yearly movies, taking the girls to choose inexpensive presents for each other, writing by the light of the Christmas tree, big mugs of hot cocoa with dreamy clouds of whipped cream & candy canes. The lights, the chill in the air, the wonderment.

I am learning that chronic illness can be, if I choose to let it, a great gift. It makes every day that I am able to engage in life that much more special. It adds another layer to the perspective loss has taught me: Don't take this day for granted.

Sisterhood

There can be no situation in life in which the conversation of my dear sister will not administer some comfort to me.

Mary Montagu

There is something so special about sisterhood. That may be between you and your biological sister. It may be a step-sister, sister-in-law, or adopted sister. You may not have that bond with a sister, you may have found it, instead, in a friend. I am blessed in the department of sisterhood. I have a biological sister who I love hanging out with {just a couple weeks ago, we went grocery shopping together and had a blast}, laughing with, watching movies with, or having heart-to-hearts with, I love being the person she calls when she needs to talk or cry or wants a dose of big-sister advice.

I have been gifted two daughters I have the privilege of raising as sisters. Currently 3 & 6, they are the epitome of siblings -- they giggle at each other's made-up knock-knock jokes, share clothes, compliment each other on their outfits, play together, make messes together, get into trouble together, adore each other, and fight with each other. I hope they will always be close.

I also have sister-friends -- women I have met at some point in my life with whom I have a sister-like bond. These are the women who have celebrated with me, watched me fall and helped me back up, not judged when my actions or attitude were not admirable. These are the women who have showed up, without my asking, when they knew I needed them; who have prayed for me; who have cried over my hurts like their own.

I have a mom and aunts I look up to and who encourage me on my journey. They are not perfect and that frees me from feeling like I can't measure up. They are real and they are flawed and they are wonderful.

Sitting across the table at a restaurant recently, I looked into the eyes of a new sister-friend as she told me parts of her story. Where she came from, what obstacles she has overcome, and what makes her who she is. I felt so honored to be given that gift. We ate pumpkin pie and sipped hot chocolate and talked for more hours than you would believe about authenticity and motherhood and love and faith and things we struggle with. To be able to be real with someone, to show them your heart and have them accept and understand it, is such a gift.

Simplify

I've been working on simplifying my life over the course of the last several months. I was diagnosed with a chronic health condition last week, and I simply can't keep up my usual life pace. The frustration is that I can't. The fun part is figuring out what's worth my time & energy. I'll tell you what's on the list so far:

YES

cuddling with my kids

journaling & creativity

homeschooling

baking

feathering the nest {although more feathers may be left out of place than before}

family time

NO

going out every day

attempting significant car trips alone

letting external stressors in the front door

guilt that i can't measure up to others' or my own previous standards

extras & unnecessaries

My energy is severely compromised. I can't be on my feet very long. I limp sometimes. I run fevers, which is the only type of running I do.

My life is going to look different now than it used to. So that's what I'm in the process of accepting. I'm also in the process of accepting that I'll possibly be in pain the majority of my life {for now, that's every day, but hopefully my new treatment plan will help}.

I'm going to have to make decisions about what I can manage, and what's not feasible.

I'll tell you what I will not cut: my daughters. They will know and feel that I love and adore them, and that I have what it takes to take good care of them. Even if that's all I can manage some days.

Reflections on An Evening in the Mist

It's sunset on a Wednesday evening in August, and I step out of a bookstore to wet mist and the aroma of sickeningly sweet salt water taffy. Inside the candy store, wood flooring greets my Mary Jane flats and I stick a quarter in an electric player piano and the whole store turns to look at me as jazzy bar tunes explode from the piano that is playing itself.

All of my senses are completely delighted.

It's like a welcome vacation from real life. Real life with disease and a painful joint condition. Real life with work and stress. Real life with laundry and dishes and dirty floors. Real life with insomnia and rough mornings.

This, right here and right now, can stay.

New books and comfy leggings and knit dresses and little girls holding hands with their daddy and player piano music in a candy store at sunset in a little coastal town one summer evening in the mist.

Life These Days

I don't even know where to start with this post. I've been meaning to write an update. For those of you who follow this blog for journaling tips and inspiration, I hope you aren't too disappointed by the detour of late.

For those who have been wanting to know more about what's happening with my health, stick around.

I am feeling the same -- swollen, ill, flushed, my joints are stiff and cranky, my back hurts, my hips don't always work when I stand up and try to walk. I'm very, very tired.

I saw the doctor again this week, and she started me on thyroid medication and prescription vitamins with iron. I am hoping that treating my thyroid problem and anemia will perk me up some. But that's not looking like all of the problem.

The doctor thinks I have something called Ankylosing Spondylitis. You might not know how to even pronounce that, let alone know what it is. I have been saying those words since I was a little girl, and that's because my dad has it. Ankylosing Spondylitis (AS) is a chronic inflammatory disease that effects the joints, normally large ones such as spine, neck, shoulders, hips, and knees, and can effect many other parts of the body. It is an autoimmune condition, which basically means that the body thinks there's a foreign invader of some kind, and has sounded the alarm and sent out troops to attack and conquer the threat. The problem is, my body is attacking itself.

AS can be hereditary. I had some hip trouble in my teenage years, and throughout the years have had back pain here and there. During my younger daughter's pregnancy I had severe joint pain and had a lot of difficulty walking, dressing, climbing stairs, etc... In the last year or so, I began to have stiffness in my low back some mornings. I remember saying on my Facebook status one day that I needed WD-40 for my joints. A couple of people laughed, and a couple of {older than me} ladies said that I was too young for that. Ankylosing Spondylitis often begins in a person's early twenties, sometimes even in the teen years, but is almost always diagnosed before age 35. My dad was diagnosed just about the same age I am now.

I really began to be concerned last fall when I experienced my first "flare" of autoimmune symptoms. I had low grade fever, my low back was quite stiff and sore, I had pain in other joints, and weird puffiness that I had never experienced. I was, like now, very very tired.

Skip to now. This flare began in May and has not ended. I finally went and saw a doctor, had a physical exam, went over my history and my family history, and had labwork. There is a specific gene that is strongly associated with AS (90% of people with AS test positive for it). My test came back positive.

Given my symptoms, family history, and positive test result, it is quite likely that I have Ankylosing Spondylitis.

The rheumatologist I was scheduled to see could not get me in until late September. That felt so long from now. When I saw the doctor this week, she suggested she see if she could get me in to another rheumatologist sooner. She was able to do that, and now I will be seeing my new doctor late THIS month. I am relieved I don't have to wait so long now.

I asked the doctor this week if she thought I had Ankylosing Spondylitis, after she came into the exam room and spoke of little else. She looked at me and said, "I'd say it's pretty certain, dear."

So while I have not been diagnosed yet, I am prepared that that's what my diagnosis will be.

I am trying to learn how to adjust my life to include this condition. I have had to start resting in the late afternoons as much as I can, otherwise my back begins to throw a fit. The girls and I have started a new little ritual of climbing into the comfort of the couch together, with a heating pad behind my back, for at least an hour. Sometimes I read them stories, sometimes we watch a movie, sometimes I have to close my eyes for a while.

Mostly, I'm ok. But life is different already. I don't have any days that I feel "fine." I never know when I wake up what combination of symptoms will greet me. Today my mid-back was stiff for about an hour, and later my neck was stiff. I had a temp of 99.1 and felt flushed. As the day progressed so did my low back pain, and after a 20 minute drive down the coast, when I tried to get out of the car, I discovered that one of my hips had stiffened and didn't want to bend properly or support me. That's just today. Tomorrow it will likely look a little different.

I want to have a positive attitude that inspires people and doesn't weigh them down. I don't want the girls to only remember me ill and in pain. I don't want to have to slow my pace so that I can accomodate this foreign invader into my life.

Every day I try to be thankful that I can do everything I can do. I try to look for the hidden gifts. Things like cuddling little girls whose hair smells like coconut. Things like being given 20 kisses in rapid succession by my 3 year-old because she wants me to feel better.

And that's where I'm at right now... slowing down, being reintroduced to daily pain after thinking that chapter of my life was over, reframing my reality.

Father's Voice

This evening over dinner I was telling the girls some of my memories of meeting them when they were born. As I reminisced, Hannah's eyes sparkled, and Natalie would say occasionally, "And then what happened?" I told them that the night Hannah was born and the day Natty was born were the most special times of my life.

I told them that when Natalie was born she cried and cried, as if unsure of where she was and feeling scared, until the nurse handed her to me and I held her and said, "It's okay, Natty Kate, Mommy's here." As soon as she heard my voice, she recognized it, and stopped crying.

I was thinking as I tucked Natalie in, how often we feel unsure of where we are and where we're going, and how scary that can be. I began to sing a soft little song to Natalie, smoothing her brown hair, "When you're scared, do you listen for your Father's voice?"

Hannah came in from brushing her teeth and asked, "What are you singing to Natalie?" I told her that I was making up a little song and that how Natalie stopped crying when she heard my voice just after she was born is how we should be when we are scared. We should listen for our Heavenly Father's voice, and not be afraid. She said, "Ohhhh," solemnly as if agreeing, and then said, "I just heard God's voice just now! I heard Him say, 'That's right, Jennifer.'"

I don't know if God really spoke to my 6 year-old tonight or not, but what I love is that she believes. She believes that He is real, that He is near, and that He would choose to speak to her.

Do you believe? When you're scared, do you listen to your Father's voice?

Sunkissed

Can it be true that spring has finally arrived? Now that we are just over a month away from the official beginning of summer?

Today was gorgeous, although the breeze was still a bit chilly, and the girls and I spent a lovely two hours at the park after school. Tonight I feel reminders of the sunny day on my arms and back.

I LOVE rain. Ask anyone.

I also love sunny days when it is not too hot and I can spend time with the girls at the park. They love swinging and sliding and teeter-tottering and all that park life entails. I love watching their antics, witnessing their joy, knowing they are getting good exercise and fresh air and Vitamin D, photographing them, and maybe scribbling in my notebook for 5 minutes.

Today was just one of those days, and it made me excited for summer. No school schedule. No packing lunches every morning. Sunglasses and flip-flops and a tote bag full of things like bandaids, water bottles, wet wipes, snacks, and a book. Coming home sunkissed, with grass stains or sand in between our toes.

Oh, it will be lovely...

Finding Sacredness in My Corner of the World

I was thinking today about how content I am, doing just what I do in my life right now. I start the day snuggling two little girls, who are more awake than I am, in my chair the color of chocolate. I make a pot of coffee and take pleasure in watching the steam rise in curls out of a teal mug. I cook a pot of oatmeal or griddle up some chocolate chip pancakes. I pack lunch in a purple monkey box and help my little blonde firstborn pick out her outfit for school. I smooth tangled locks into cornsilk pigtails and pontails. I inspect brushed teeth, and check to see if shoes are on the right feet. I make sure homework sheets are completed, reading sheets are ready to hand in, and check the calendar so I can give Hannah a heads-up of what's happening at school.

I grab my bag and a lanky 3 year-old wearing her favorite brown boots, and we're out the door with Hannah running ahead, her bright blue Tinkerbell backpack bouncing. Sometimes we're happy and sometimes we're frazzled. Sometimes Natalie's still in pajamas, and I'm yelling, "C'mon, c'mon, we're late!" Sometimes we're early and have time to, literally, stop and smell the [daffodils].

We drive to school, talking about the day or about Hannah's classmates, or about afterschool plans. Sometimes one of the girls makes a special song request. When we've started the day off in not the best way, I ask Hannah to say a prayer on the way to school. And she does. And I reach back and squeeze her little hand in mine, and tell her I love her.

I make a point, no matter how the morning began, to hug her tightly in front of her school and tell her, "I love you. I'm so proud of you. I'll see you at 3 o'clock." The other day, she said, "I love you too," and dashed to the front door, before turning back to holler, "Don't forget!"

These are the moments I know that I am loved. These are the affirmations that so unexpectedly crop up to erase the uncertainties. Do they know I love them? Does she know that I'm so proud of her? Am I telling them enough, and showing them enough, that they are precious? Will she grow to be confident and walk tall? Am I building them up or squashing them?

I desire, so strongly, to love well. Anybody can love, but to love well takes effort. It takes intention and planning and quality time.

Natalie & I drive home to our little red house where we do things like start a load of laundry, tidy up the kitchen, cuddle on the couch, and play in the playroom. She finds me unloading the dishwasher, and says, "I could help you!" in her chirpy little voice that is like music.

It may not sound like much, but it's wonderful. From a young age, my biggest wishes were to be married and be a mother. As I grew up I added "writer" to my list of dreams. Throughout the years, there were obstacles that loomed so large I feared my dreams were unattainable.

But they weren't.

I met a man who is an impeccable model of loving well. He has loved me whether I was sick or well, "thick" or thin, happy or sad, thriving or just surviving. He has never wavered, not even for a moment, in his commitment to me.

And then we made a family... this beautiful duo of silky-haired little women who giggle and run and squabble and color (sometimes on the walls) while Natalie chirps, "I art-ing, Mama!"

This life, small as it may be, is what great things are made of.

One Spring-like Winter Afternoon at the Playground...

I have two daughters. They are 6 and 3 years old. My younger daughter is afraid of dogs, just as her sister was at this age. One time we went to the playground. The athletic field there is bordered by residential houses and backyards. From behind a fence came a ferocious-sounding bark. Natalie ran to me in fear, even younger than she is now, and as I lifted her into my arms, she asked, wide-eyed, "Is it a dog, or a giraffe?"

Skip forward to today. We were back at the same playground, taking advantage of natural Vitamin D on an astoundingly gorgeous February day. A man and a woman were at the playground with two large dogs. They began to run closer to us so I called for Natalie to come to me, as I knew she would be terrified of the dogs. I again lifted her into my arms and held her close.

Natalie: "Why do they have dogs?"

Me: "They like dogs."

Natalie: Well, I don't."

Me: "I know you don't. But someday you might."

Natalie, breaking into a huge smile: "When I'm a big girl? And I'll say, 'Look, Mommy! A dog's coming! I LOVE DOGS!!'"

It occurred to me that we could all take a lesson from my little 3 year-old. So often we think that fear is permanent; that things that seem unchanging can't be altered. But sometimes, with time and personal growth, fear dissipates into understanding, and then maybe even joy.

Perhaps real courage is being open to change, and to looking fear in the face and asking, "Are you a dog or a giraffe?"

What are you afraid of?

Things We Do

1.) Visit the library and stock up on new & old favorites in the children's section. Watch my girls make a puppet show. My 3 year-old might find new must-have shoes on a random child and ask to try them on. My 5 year-old might arrange all the big stuffed animals around a circular colored table and set them all up reading Curious George. I might sit and scribble in my notebook for 5 minutes, all while being interrupted by the chirpy 3 year-old's need to go potty, or my need to chase said 3 year-old down before she scales the stairs to the (shhhhhh!) adult section. My 5 year-old and I might track down books I read as a child (can I describe these troves as vintage yet?) And undoubtedly, we will leave with so many books & movies in my big tote that my back is nearly out of alignment by the time we get to the car.

2.) Go on a walk to the nearby school playground, where we swing (sometimes even me), slide (last time my 5 year-old slid through a standing puddle from the rain, and left the playground with a wet rump, completely unamused), run pel-mel across the field while Mama cheerleads, "GO! Good running! Wow, you're fast! Look at you, you're flying!!!!" secretly thinking perhaps this will tire them out and they'll sleep REALLY well tonight... "3" loves to stand behind a little plastic ledge and pretend she works at a coffee shop. I have no idea where she learned about coffee.... ;-) "5" likes to play some version of hop scotch and tether ball and she especially loves when there are other kids to interrogate, er...., get acquainted with. I especially love to photograph all of this random merriment.

3.) Enjoy a 15 minute drive to the beach, all the while listening to music and enjoying the relaxation of sitting, which can only be truly appreciated by parents of Small Children Who Love To Run & Climb. 15 minutes that "5" and "3" are buckled safely & securely into their car seats. When we get there we might jump in the tide with our pantlegs rolled up (or, if you're "3" you might just ditch the britches altogether...), make a sandcake with stick-and-feather candles, "3" might chase seagulls or scatter Goldfish crackers for them to snack on, and once again, Mama might recline against a log and attempt to scribble profound thoughts in a notebook for 5 minutes. "5" might pick the little purple wildflowers and "3" will definitely haul rocks about and sort them into piles. Before or afterwards we might take 30 lovely minutes to get a snack at the nearby coffee shop and "3" will play with toys the establishment keeps on hand for kids just like herself, and "5" will definitely ask for a vanilla steamer. We will laugh and fill our bellies to satisfaction and then go home and wash our sandy feet in the bathtub, because Mama likes playing, but also likes tidiness.

4.) Come home from Kindergarten and after-school errands, change into comfy clothes, make tea (or pink milk for "3"), and pile onto the couch all in a heap to decompress. Mama might read 6 or 8 or 10 children's books, or we might watch "Free Willy" (because "5" adores whales), or "Parent Trap" (the new or the old version will do), or if we are feeling particularly sacrificial, watch an episode of "Dora" (because "3" is attached to the little explorer, and her voice which makes Mama's ears bleed, and her little pal Boots the Monkey [probably because of his stylish red footwear]).

5.) Create Art at our dining table where "3" will use crayons and "5" will need markers or colored pens and a host of paper/coloring books, and definitely tape, because "5" has discovered that she can be a veritable ENGINEER if she just has TAPE. If they get really involved in their creations, Mama will (you guessed it) attempt to scribble in her notebook for 5 minutes.

6.) Have tea parties. Sometimes these involve invitations and RSVPs and fine ladies and small descendants and a tea kettle and boxes of tea and silver spoons and a tribe of mugs and a tall glass canister of sugar and a little pitcher of cream. More often, the parties happen at the round coffee table in the living room, atop our finest tablecloth (a baby blanket), laid with our fanciest play teacups (fancy enough to actually chip and shatter) on our fanciest saucers, with tiny silver spoons placed before each large stuffed friend, who answer to names like Tigger, Pooh, and Jagbar the Orangutan (stand-up fellow, that one!)

These are the memories we are making. These are the days and the moments I will remember. These are the things I do when I "don't have time" and have "things I need to do" and when my floor is dirty and the laundry is formed into small mountains by my washing machine. And I never regret it. And after two little girls are snug in their beds, I sometimes stay up late recording our little moments and epic adventures, and I indulge in the quiet and take more than 5 minutes (!), scribbling their little girl dialogue and thought-provoking questions into my notebook and pasting in the photographs that (attempted to) capture the moment.