Wednesday, August 4, 2010

High on Life.

Some could say that I am definitely not a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kinda gal. And they're absolutely right. I like ummmm, order. And a big "no thanks" to anything that might involve taking a risk or being potentially dangerous. I'll take driving with my seatbelt on and hands at the 10 'o clock and 2 'o clock postions, please. Notice how I always have pictures of my family doing things? Yeah, that's cuz I would much rather be safe and sound behind my trusty shutter.

Roller Coasters? Don't ride 'em. Bungee Jumping? Forget it, pal.
So, here I am, the night before my lab final and I am just so happy, (caffinated), high on life that I can't study. Can't...not way, Jose.  (Have you ever wondered, who Jose is?)
Is there something to be said that half of my thoughts during the day are about life, and love, and sentimentalness, and stuff that means stuff? Like, deep stuff?
  (Insert the other half of the day's thoughts here: ...well, let's just say that they stab through the heart of my thoughts of prancing unicorns and blissful harmony and love with knives like a blazin' fire.)

Then I leave for class in the evening for two looong hours, and return just to go straight in to my babies' room and touch their precious sleeping faces and take a deep breath of that sweet baby air. swoon. I swear I just stare at them trying to etch a permanent picture of their littleness into my brain. Like maybe if I just sit there and stare time will stop for just a moment. Or maybe, just maybe, I will remember these moments forever--the ones where I try so hard just to take them all in--their little pink toes, their crazy little baby-mullet hair-dos that still smell like baby, their laughs, their silly little words--"tanks mommy, loy-you mommy".

And it's always late at night that I am finally de-frazzled from my long day of being a mom where all that fills my mind is love and gratitude. So much, that I have to just get it out. It's true what they say- the good always outweighs the bad at the end of the day (literally). And it's not even really bad, per se... just really hard.

Those sweet smelling little things are 23 months old today. How long before one needs to stop describing their child's age in months? Can't I just keep on? Like, so what if I introduce Aiden as my sixty-eight-month-old to his teacher when he starts kindergarten in 13 days? Haha...ok, I'm getting a tad delirious.
I suppose I should get to studyin' because Lord knows, I'm not gonna do anything take a final without studying...oh heavens no, I get nervous just thinkin about it.


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