I had high hopes this summer for my newly-literate 7 year old, and all the summer reading rewards programs she’d be accomplishing.
It isn’t that she’s not reading.
I’m just not keeping track with all of it. And I’ve sort of stopped caring. The truth is, for everything I complain about when it comes to Eliott, I should probably consider myself pretty lucky that she enjoys school, works independently, and with the exception of handwriting, is probably above average on the relative intelligence scale. I hope she hasn’t spoiled me so much that when it comes to her siblings and homework, I have no will to fight. (Oh please oh please oh please, let me have given birth to only dorky little teacher’s pets like myself.)
You know. The kind that come out as barely a mental whisper as my head hits the pillow and my body sighs into the kind of numbness brought on by exhaustion and emotional fullness…
- Health and wholeness. Hormone balance.
- Kids who get to know You personally one day and still like You.
- All the mommies. Sanity. Grace. Creativity.
- John. Work. Less stress. More hair. No heart attacks.
- Oh yeah, and thanks. For everything. I love You.
This August, John and I will hit the decade milestone for how long we’ve known each other. We will also celebrate our 9th marriage anniversary. (Wedding anniversary? How do you say that?)
It is a weird and wonderful comfort that exists in living with the same person for so long. I obviously haven’t had it since childhood. And I didn’t get to choose those people.
My back-to-school supply shopping has officially begun.
You might see me as the kind of mom who prints off all the lists, organizes them, and then takes one trip to Walmart or Target and knocks it out in one child-free evening the week before school starts.
We close on our new house this Thursday.
Everyone keeps asking when we are moving.
“Sometime after May 8th,” I keep responding.
Normally something as enormous as packing up a four-bedroom house and moving (even three miles away) would be ridiculously stressful to me. You know me. I can hardly take my entire family on a road trip to Tennessee without planning out the packing situation for days in advance. (Don’t even get me started on airplane travel.)