They Just Keep Growing...Likes Sands in the Hourglass....

They are being loud up there...another round of "sleepover central" is being played out in our house tonight.  It's a familiar theme for the girls lately - come Friday afternoon the begging starts, "Hey Mom, can so-and-so sleep oooooh-ver?  Puh-lease?  I promise we'll clean our room - she will put away laundry and I will pick up the floor; I promise we won't fight!  Can we, puh-lease?"  As it happens to start the second I walk in the door from work, my standard answer is, "We have to ask your dad," which loosely translated really means "Please give me one moment to breathe and maybe hang my coat up before you two start peppering me with questions!"  I usually give in, though, and Friday nights and often Saturdays, too, turn into evenings with several 10 and 11-year-old girls giggling and whispering to each other, chasing or being chased by the brothers, yelling, squealing...you get the picture.  The sleepovers have been going on since our oldest was little, probably going on 15 years of them, for the boys and the girls.  Lots of eating and sleeping bags and dancing and playing in the snow - Nerf gun wars and swimming, bikes and basketball tournaments...

"Mrs. C., can I have another cookie?"

"Mrs. C., can I have some more pancakes?"

"Mom, can we sleep in the family room?"

I love it.

And I hate it.

I love it because it's what I always dreamed of when we had all these toddlers and babies running around...a home filled with kids, mine and the neighborhood's, just hanging out and playing games, eating around the table, chatting and confiding.  A warm home, a safe home.  A fun, inviting, comfortable and, yes, loud home. The older kids still want their friends to hang out here, the young ones still want the sleepovers here.  It's good.  Really good.

But I hate it because it's slowly leaving me - the sand in the bottle of time that is my family.  That sand is trickling down, slowly and relentlessly, and soon it will run out.  Then they will be off turning over their own bottles of time and watching their own families grow.  And I will miss them.  I know I have some time; my first one is in college now and the last two are still only 11.  We have plenty of time before they want to leave and explore their big, beautiful worlds.  I hear it, I know it...that my babies are growing and they will keep on growing.  It's bittersweet, just like everyone always says.

But now I feel it, and it is an ache that is nagging at my heart, and it is growing along with my babies.

I know we all feel it.  Moms the world over talk about it, we commiserate during the school functions and gatherings and at the holiday tables.  We even have that look, the one when one of our kids says something particularly precocious...that look that we give each other over the kids' heads...with a little eyebrow arch and a wistful smile,"They are growing so fast and I'm a little sad..." We know that look.  We all give that look at one time or another.  It's like a reflex - we just can't help ourselves.

I knew it was coming.  I watched those Hallmark commercials that made me cry when I was pregnant.  I heard my mom, my aunts, my grandmas say it..."You just wait...when they are gone..." with that eyebrow arch and the wistful smile.  But I didn't know I would start to feel it now, so soon.  And that it would come with the knowledge that it would grow bigger as they did, this ache in my heart.

There's another knowledge that came with this feeling, too, though.  It's a tiny feeling that rests easily within my aching heart.  The feeling that Superman will be standing beside me as we wave the last child off to their big, beautiful world of adventure.  He will be there to hold me up as I feel the ache wash over me, and he will hold my hand as we turn over another bottle of time for the sand to start our own new adventure.  It will be new and different, and filled with love and pride as we watch these babies of ours from a distance.

And it will be good.

Really good.

Winter Musings

I have been thinking a long time on the direction my blog should take - hence the lack of posts :-)  I have come to the conclusion that maybe I will just share my crazy busy brain here on my blog and then my "voice" will naturally emerge...or all of you will find out just how nuts I am!

It's snowing right now, heavy snow outside the office window, and it is beautiful.  I am thankful to live in such a beautiful state where the weather changes so much - I think I would be totally bored in a state like Florida - as lovely as it is - with no season change and where the weather really never has any variety. 

The snow always feels like a lovely blanket, wrapping me in comfort.  It brings back happy childhood memories and makes happy childhood memories for my children.  I love the way it dampens the sounds outside; when I am standing out in the snow all the sounds are muted, I can't hear the freeway a half mile from my house and even the sound of the snow shovel scraping the driveway is softer, more gentle.

Driving in the snow makes me smile.  The crunch of the snow under my tires, the ruts of snow that create a path down the road, the screen of snow falling as I drive all make even a commute to work a lovely sensory experience.

Across the street from me right now is a home with many evergreens in the front yard.  Through the falling snow I can make out one of them from here at my desk.  It is the familiar dark green, conical shaped tree that is so common here in Michigan.  The snow has gently frosted the needles of the evergreen, creating a beautiful dark green and white picture for me to look at today.

Winter in Michigan brings me joy and peace...I hope it does for you, too!

:-)