Thinking can be so exhausting at times...and so can writing. I always thought writing out my thoughts was a sort of release. Just getting those words tumbling around in my mind, out on to paper somehow seemed to make everything clearer.
Like a weight had been lifted.
There are few of us in this world today that can truthfully say they have never experienced brokenness. It touches each life at one point or another. Whether through divorce, abuse, losing a child, betrayal....the grim list goes on and on, but we've all felt it.
Today I am tired. Blake's been working on pushing through his last two teeth all week, and I'm at the point of not remembering things now...
You know- the point where you wake up in the morning and go "Oh, there's a child in my bed", and you have no idea how he got there? But I'm pretty sure at some point in the night I stumbled into his room, picked him up, and laid him down next to me...comatose. My mom told me before Blake was born...
The weatherman says there's frost on the way... Blake and I put on jeans and long sleeve-shirts today and it's a little bit sad to me. I know I've said this before but I'm not a hot weather girl...I really love the way fall romances my senses with it's bright colored leaves, cool air, caramel apples and pumpkins.
But there's a little part of me that is sad to see summer go.
Fall is a bittersweet time of year. I long for it to come...with it's cool breezes, warm sunshine, pumpkins, apple cider, and beautiful changing leaves! But I struggle through August knowing that fall is on it's way...I'm not a summer person, so I never really could put my finger on the feelings I seem to have every year around this time. I'm not sad to see the hot weather go, but I'm also filled with an agitation deep within that leaves me feeling unsettled. It makes me feel like I'm going crazy. Like something buried deep inside is about to come flooding out of me.
I knew from the moment Blake sneezed his mouthful of soggy Fruit Loops all over my clean shirt and flat-ironed hair that it was going to be one of those days. My little guy's favorite way of expressing his extreme dislike of any given situation is to throw his Bo-Bo (bink, paci...) as hard and defiantly as he can. By the time we'd finished running a quick errand this morning, he'd chucked it probably 10 times in the car- and I was done. I was so sick of picking that dumb thing up, and I looked at his sweet face and yelled,
The other night while Josh and I were driving down to Ohio for the weekend, I heard a radio broadcast talking about hope. It picked me up. It made me feel less like I'm alone, and more like everyone struggles with the "downers" sometimes. Even if for no apparent reason...
Do you remember as a kid feeling those unexplainable aches in your legs?
The ones that your mom would tell you were