Remember how I'm pregnant? Because I sure do. Two's health is finally moving in a good direction, and for the first time since I discovered this wee blessing, I feel like I have a moment to breathe... except that there's a rapidly-growing being who's moved into my ribcage, occupying space normally reserved for my diaphragm and lungs. It does complicate things a little. Bless her baby heart.
The little bean has also helped herself to a large part of my brain. I'm afraid it's the functional part (maybe not so large a portion...). Anyway. I wanted to post about the glorious snow that has blanketed our beautiful hometown, but I'm having some photo issues. Alas.
Words don't seem like a very good substitute, but they're what I've got. The sky here is a luminous shell pink and, days after the fat, fluffy, flakes stopped falling, Momo's backyard is still a pristine white wonderland. The snow is clean and deep; the Russian olive tree is covered with a thousand tiny icicles, glittering in the moonlight. It's a glorious vision for this sleep-deprived mama, up too late with some prenatal heartburn and mild writer's block. Magical as the vantage out window is, though, it honestly can't compare to my view in the other direction: Princess H, with her golden hair and rosebud cheeks; a slightly booger-crusted Tiny, making little snores and fluttering his impossibly long lashes; Mr. One, wearing a tee shirt I swear he's had since our college romance, older and more handsome now, smiling in his sleep...
Things have felt pretty crazy the last few months. Sometimes, just putting one foot in front of the other -- and compelling my two willful babes to do the same -- is utterly exhausting. Sometimes, I get overwhelmed just trying to make my brain slow down to a speed where I can try to keep up with it. But, on a night like this, as everything is perfectly quiet, and beautiful, and serene, I'm totally overwhelmed for different reasons: gratitude, happiness, wonder. I think a few minutes spent drinking it all in is probably even more restorative than sleep.
But only a few minutes. Then the sleep becomes really necessary...
The little bean has also helped herself to a large part of my brain. I'm afraid it's the functional part (maybe not so large a portion...). Anyway. I wanted to post about the glorious snow that has blanketed our beautiful hometown, but I'm having some photo issues. Alas.
Words don't seem like a very good substitute, but they're what I've got. The sky here is a luminous shell pink and, days after the fat, fluffy, flakes stopped falling, Momo's backyard is still a pristine white wonderland. The snow is clean and deep; the Russian olive tree is covered with a thousand tiny icicles, glittering in the moonlight. It's a glorious vision for this sleep-deprived mama, up too late with some prenatal heartburn and mild writer's block. Magical as the vantage out window is, though, it honestly can't compare to my view in the other direction: Princess H, with her golden hair and rosebud cheeks; a slightly booger-crusted Tiny, making little snores and fluttering his impossibly long lashes; Mr. One, wearing a tee shirt I swear he's had since our college romance, older and more handsome now, smiling in his sleep...
Things have felt pretty crazy the last few months. Sometimes, just putting one foot in front of the other -- and compelling my two willful babes to do the same -- is utterly exhausting. Sometimes, I get overwhelmed just trying to make my brain slow down to a speed where I can try to keep up with it. But, on a night like this, as everything is perfectly quiet, and beautiful, and serene, I'm totally overwhelmed for different reasons: gratitude, happiness, wonder. I think a few minutes spent drinking it all in is probably even more restorative than sleep.
But only a few minutes. Then the sleep becomes really necessary...
