Head 'em up, Load 'em out...

Parenthood is full mysteries.

Many are profound, soul-searching, life-affirming and truly unanswerable perplexities. For example, I still cannot fully wrap my head around the miracle of birthing a child from my womb (even though I was there twice, have pictures I'll never show to anyone ever, said things to my husband he'll never let me forget, bless his heart, etc....). From the very beginning, motherhood has presented itself as perhaps life's most beautiful mystery, and I am in awe.

I work really hard to try hard to find and treasure that same sense of wonder while parenting our boys. It keeps me going, charges the battery, and reminds me that this hard, hard, hard work is in itself it's own reward. These little guys are learning, absorbing, discovering and working at solving life's mysteries every day. I suppose we all are, to a certain degree, but it is just SO INTENSE with small children.

I took this picture of Max on our way home from the park earlier this week. It was a gray day with a tease of sunshine here and there. The clouds broke and the sun opened up right above us; a warm and natural beacon. Max and Sam didn't say anything, but their heads turned to the light (okay, that sounds creepy and ominous) and Max let out a sigh. A little breath that took in the wonder of the light. And as he let out that little gasp, he took my breath away, too.




I'm not always good at this mothering gig, and this winter it's been a true test. We've been sick, not sleeping well (or long), stuck inside the house way too much, and basically shuffling through challenges and decisions that have worn us down. There are decisions about finances, healthcare, getting time to complete the never-ending chore list, blah blah blah. It's exhausting and when run with the soundtrack of monkey tackles and foreign objects being flushed down the toilet, just plain old unnerving.

And in addition to the mysteries and complexities, decisions and choices, there are the mundane and utilitarian conundroms of parenting.

Such as: why do I need FIVE strollers for two children? When one of whom is really too heavy for me to push, and the other is so getsited to finally be vertically motating that he refuses to sit for a long haul. I consider getting rid of one (stroller, not child), and then, like the fourteen pairs of black shoes in my closet, I rationalize a reason to hang on to each and every one.

Take for example, the double jogging stroller. How else could I haul two kids, a soccer ball, two buckets, a shovel, a rake AND a hoe to the park?

See, I need this:




And how does hair smell like mud? Even if it's not muddy, but it still speaks of wet dirt, and why is that such a delicious smell on a little boy and not so attractive on grown men?

And how cute and happy is this little guy to be able to finally play with the big dogs at the park?



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Speaking of crazy cute...On Thursday, I made cute little heart-shaped pancakes for Valentine's Day breakfast. That's chocolate sprinkled on top, and that made them very, very happy.



But not NEARLY as happy as Max was when he got to talk to Donald Duck on the phone:


Thanks, Grandpa Tom.

Why is such a ridiculous, spit-splattering, duckie dialect SO HILARIOUS to kids?

I dunno.

It's all a mystery to me.