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Blog

One month to go

Meg

I've tried to sit in front of the computer a time or two this week. Everytime, my daughter has immediately climbed up into my lap, toys in hand, filling what little space is left between the computer chair and the desk. I find it amazing that she can balance on my legs at all at this point! At times, her intrusion annoys me. I just want a few minutes to myself. Minutes to surf the web, read up on blogs, and to work on my own blog. It doesn't help that she's been refusing naps this week. Naps that she (and I) so desperately need. This lack of napping leaves both of us irratable by the evening. There have definitely been some low moments this week. But there have been some precious times as well. 

Cuddling with my girl and reading story after story (I love that she's already a bookworm!). 

Wearing dresses and twirling to the music (because dancing just wouldn't be the same without a pretty skirt). 

Making apple oat muffins together (she was covered with half of the flour by the end!). 

Meeting up with new friends for a playdate, complete with chocolate chip cookies.

And exploring the Children's museum together on an overcast, windy day.

These are the moments that I love being a mommy. The moments when I'm reminded of how blessed this life is that I live. 

I'm often told by random passerbys that I'll have my hands full with two kiddos, or that I look like I'm going to pop any day now. I honestly take the comments with good grace. They really don't bother me much. Yes, my world will change in the coming month (one month, can you believe that's all we have left?). Yes, life with a newborn and toddler will be hectic for awhile. 

But oh am I blessed. I am truly trying my best to enjoy each and every stage of this journey.

The time will come when I have more time to write.

When I can finish those sewing and scrapbook projects on the backburner. 

 When I have time for that nap I so desperately want to take. 

But then my babies will no longer be babies. Already my daughter is correcting words she used to so cutely mispronounce. She's dressing herself, brushing her own teeth, and cleaning up her own toys. She's learning how to count and can tell you quite a few colors and letters. She's expressing herself, talking a mile a minute, and showing her frustrations about life in new, colorful, ways. 

This children's book by Karen Kingsbury came to mind as I was writing this today. In it, she celebrates not the firsts, but the lasts. My daughter's scrapbook is filled with memories of her first, but how many lasts have already passed us by? How many things have already changed? Was I present, or distrated, at those lasts?