I’m sitting on the couch watching my girls watch the SpongeBob Christmas special. Sophie is wearing a blue princess dress over her clothes, and Lily is sprawled in “her” chair (the big brown La-Z-Boy that migrated downstairs from the nursery and that I still can’t bear to part with because there are so many memories wrapped up in it). Her black eye — from a head-on collision at recess this week — is starting to turn green. She’s forgotten it’s there. Thank goodness.
Marc sits beside me, exhausted from more wrestling with insulation and plastic sheeting and pipes under the house. We’ve just finished a dinner of Thanksgiving leftovers, and bedtime is fast approaching (praise be).
In one word, I’m content.
I’ve grown to appreciate this happy weariness of parenthood. The completion of a fun, action-packed day. The delicious anticipation of those glorious post-bedtime hours when I get a break from the nonstop tending to my girls’ needs.
My reserves fill up, and I begin to miss them as I head up to bed. By the morning, I’m rested (mostly) and overjoyed (truly) to see them again. Especially when they sleep past seven.
We’ve had a wonderful little holiday. Thanksgiving Day with Nonna, Papa, Aunt Laura and her brood; a movie date with sweet Olive; Christmas decorating; and lots (LOTS) of jammie time. I hope your holiday has been just as chaotic and relaxing and love-filled.
Every year as we turn the corner toward Christmas, I get extra nostalgic and emotional. It’s an interesting phenomenon that’s been growing stronger since Lily’s first Christmas six years ago. I take stock and reflect and think ahead to a new, fresh year. And I can’t listen to a Bing Crosby song without tearing up a little bit.
Can you tell where this is headed?
Here I am again, wanting to stop blogging. There are lots of reasons, but the biggest are those two in the photo up there (and their dad). I hardly publish any more, but this site still weighs on me. I neglect it. Then I feel guilty and throw myself in and spend way too much time nurturing it. My compulsion to document takes all sorts of forms (journals for both girls, notes on my phone, copious photo-taking, etc.) and publishing these intimacies online is becoming increasingly uncomfortable for me. An invasion of privacy that I’m enabling. It’s weird.
Plus, my real job is busy and incredibly fulfilling. I’ve also started freelance writing. And I want to dedicate most of my online energy to Posy and Ann Tyer Photography and Postpartum Education and Support.
So I’m going to step away for a little while. Or a long one. I just don’t know. I’m not going to shutter this site in a big hurry, like with pretty*swell, when I lost a bunch of photos and words and my heart is still broken over it. Silly impulsive me.
Thank you for reading. Especially those of you who’ve been with us since the beginning, August 2009.
I’ll still be hanging out on Instagram, so pop by there for little updates if you’d like.
Happy holidays, friends. Wishing you love and happiness and lots of bacon-wrapped goodies.