My inspiration for this record of my days:

“The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make. . . . I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less” -Anna Quindlen

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Moments and Filters


I wish there was a way to really capture moments and hang on to them.  I want to keep more than pictures and words.  I want to remember all of the details and feelings of this moment.

I’m up late at night with a sweet newborn baby nuzzling my neck.  He has just finished nursing, and is drowsy and content.  His hair is so soft that I can barely feel it as I stroke his little head.  His legs and arms are curled up under him so that he makes a compact little bundle up against my chest.  He smells sweet and makes little grunting sounds as he tries to get comfortable.

The lights are dim, and the house is clean and quiet.  I am feeling blessed to have such a beautiful life.  I’m looking at the pictures of my other kids on the walls, thinking how fast the time has gone.  I’m so grateful that I have gotten to experience these sweet moments so many times. 

There is something about having a new baby in the house that makes the atmosphere more peaceful.  Even sacred.  It’s like we have a soft filter over our home.  The kids can feel it, I know, because they have been happier and kinder to each other.  Not perfect, of course, but really sweet.

I can see Caleb, in particular, watching, absorbing the way his dad takes care of me and the baby and storing that information away for future use.  I hope that one day he will be as sweet and gentle and caring as his dad is with me.

Of course there are plenty of details that I don’t care to keep forever, but these sweet ones are what make life beautiful.  I am grateful for moments.

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