Mundane

The days roll together with the mundane routine of hot tea and vitamins before quickly packing lunch and waking the grumpy boy upstairs. He feels sick every day and accuses me of not caring when I fail to believe him. And so on...

He is now called, "Double D" because most often, someone is yelling, "Damn it, Diesel" when addressing him. As it turns out, Diesel is his second name. Sigh.

We move through each day and although the elementary building always has something unexpected arise, it is managed so efficiently, I often fail to grasp it's importance in the moment. My pace is quick so I am unable to fully process until after school, while waiting on Ty in the quiet of my car. 

Someone interrupted our quick weeknight date to retrieve a vehicle.

It's sometimes difficult to quantify the significance of relationships and situations but my role is valuable and I feel as though I serve a purpose. Whereas some days are longer than others, it's worthwhile. I have to stop myself from taking on more, as I see needs beyond my ability to fill. Thank God, literally, for the hearts that serve alongside mine who help close that gap or step up and remind me of my humanity. 

Kate made a friend at a local candle shop.

And so we roll through the days, monotonous and often uninspiring until a daughter casually mentions her intent to study abroad this winter in Africa. Could I watch the cat? Some of us are pretty causal about these things. I am not. Of course this is the same winter another daughter will be moving to Hawaii. Did I mention a third is graduating early so she can travel the world?

This is our third attempt at a basket to contain his toys. He likes chewing them up and uses them to carry all his toys so he doesn't have to choose only one. 

Parents of littles, save yourselves. Stop listening to the "experts" who encourage independence and servant's hearts. Those fools failed to warn us they would soar in the end. Away from us. 

Not tired.

The kids are no longer sharing cute stories or even things I can share publicly and of course, hide from my camera in their teen years. My ability to have my nest filled with all my flock is not possible often and I am trying to make peace with it all. What is there to say in this space, mundane week after mundane week? And yet, I worry that without the record keeping it provides, I will lose sight of the small gift of each day.  

He thinks we need to share my side of the bed once Greg gets up each morning. No amount of convincing removes him from laying on me, even lifting my pillows does nothing to convince him I need a little space.