Tag: parenting

Pocket full of sunshine

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If dinosaurs roamed the earth millions of years ago,

Who’s to say mermaids don’t live in oceans far below?

When the sun sinks below the hills we know it’ll rise again,

So why’s it crazy to think legs could be replaced with a fin?

Ask me not of the many things one knows but cannot see,

Ask instead what lights the way toward endless possibilities.

Is it the heart that beats to a drum only it knows how to hear?

Or the voice that whispers comfort when you’re full of fear.

Miracles happen every day, everywhere.

You only have to seek to find the magic in the air.

______________

Today we took the Shrimpresses to their first puppet show at Bob Baker Marionette with Oh Joy! It was basically as if a Mom Blogger’s Instagram came to life. Everyone had their kids dressed in the cutest little outfits, and every where you looked there was a colorful setting staged for selfies.

Then there was Zee Shrimpress, hair tangled, shirt from last night, mismatched shorts we just barely convinced her she needed to wear to “see puppets”, and the biggest, most joyful look on her face. She has a way of forcing us to remember that nothing in the world matters more than family.

As she chased kids around roaring like a dinosaur, with her baby sister looking on in admiration, we couldn’t help but be wrapped into her world.

Her world where you can be a dinosaur looking for your next meal (friends), only to turn into a bird and fly away (because Mama gave ya some introvert genes for good measure), then off on your unicorn as a warrior princess to save your baby sister from attacks (said friends who are excited to have found someone smaller than themselves). And that is all under five minutes.

Her world where mermaids, unicorns, dragons, princesses, “octopuses”, whales, cowboys, and of course dinosaurs, all coexist in harmony.

My magical little Shrimpress, please don’t ever lose that sparkle.

xx

This thing called love

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“Mama, hand. Hand, Mama”

Lili reaches for me blindly in the night and grasps onto my hand tightly. She’s supposed to be sleeping. We’re supposed to be sleeping. And from the strength of her grip I know she’s still awake.

I listen to the hushed breathing of Ella suckling me, while I savor the small, but mighty grip of my firstborn.

She’s so independent these days. She’s fierce and funny. She’s trying her boundaries…testing ours. She’s exercising her voice and mastering her will.

She pushes us.

She teaches us.

She teaches me to stop. That life isn’t so busy and nothing is more important than pretending to be horseys or dinosaurs with a toddler. 

She teaches me money is nice, but imagination is priceless.

She teaches me there’s nothing more beautiful in the world than joy. Joy bursting through a roar of laughter. Joy twinkling through the crinkle of scrunched up eyes. Joy heard through the excitement of a tiny human calling you over to “Here! Sit Down!”  

She clutches me as she falls to sleep. If I make a move to reposition she’s instantly grasping to keep my hand wrapped around hers. In her tiny fingers I feel the love of a million hearts.

As my brain runs through all the things I need to do at work. All they ways we need to balance finances. All the ways life would be better if just…

Her little hand wraps itself around my distracted thoughts. “Here Mama, sit down. Hand Mama.”

And my three year old does what I still can’t seem to master after thirty years. She quiets my wayward inner dialog. She teaches me there is nothing more perfect than this. A little hand. A little voice.

“Hand, Mama. Hand.”