Beginning the Fifth Year

Yesterday was the fourth anniversary of Simon making me his wife. Four years is so much longer than it feels! Trying to make sense of that number, I started looking back over all that has filled them. And, wow, have they been full! The biggest change is the to kiddos that have come, changing almost every aspect of our lives as they did. Another big one is the sweet little house we now own, and the new city I have lived in for the past year. Additionally, we've moved four times, Simon has changed jobs twice--from one to another and back again--and I've retired from a long, lustrous teaching career of two years. Alot has happened; alot of days have gone by.
And each day is a tiny, lovely blessing.

As a used-to-be writer, I go to bed almost every night, cataloging my experiences, thoughts and growth from the day, but never really recording any of it at all. I stay up, finding the perfect words to describe my exact emotion at getting the last of the carpet ripped up, or finding that perfect spaghetti sauce recipe, or peeking into the crib and seeing Lyla's huge, toothless grin. But those thoughts, like most of mine these days, dissolve away almost as quickly as sleep takes me, and I'm left the next day feeling like I really described those things well--but can't do it again.

And when I add up four years of that, well. A tiny tragedy.

I know there are literally millions of stay-at-home moms out there blogging their little hearts out, discussing the every day things like diaper rash and gardening. I ain't saying I got anything on them. I don't. I garden. Okay, I aspire to garden. But, regardless of the stereotype I am perhaps furthering, and the cliche I may be participating in, despite the fact that this may be a boring, nondescript little blog unworthy of much notice, I'm doing it. And I hope that, those of you who come with me, will enjoy it.