remember when our songs were just like prayer, like gospel hymns that you called in the air

These days are both long and short, packed with chaos and running and doing. By the time my husband is home and Ethan is asleep in his bed, I'm exhausted and my eyes are burning with the need to just sleep. So I do. I've found myself at random times during the day willing myself to never forget the little moments and by the time eight o'clock rolls around I'm too wiped out to turn on a computer and recount them. So I don't. This disconnect, I'm guessing, isn't unusual considering pregnancy and being the sole caretaker to an almost-three year old don't always go seamlessly together. But I want to make more of a conscious effort to recount these moments, the one that pass by in a sweat-filled haze of South Florida springtime commotion, the ones that I will myself to never forget.

While not a day passes by where my husband and I don't glance at one another with the quizzical look of "where did our baby go?" I find myself loving this age even more than any phase of the past. I say that often. My credibility is probably shot. But these memories at almost-three are some of my favorites. Almost-three. It's the age everyone warns you about, the one you're supposed to despise -- but I don't, at all. There is chaos and there is frustration but there is Ethan and I, this little team that we are, and this understanding we have that no one else in the world is a part of. He has slowly-yet-quickly morphed into this little man with this boisterous, wonderful personality and it seems each day a new piece of him unfolds. The person he is, the one he is becoming, is so beautiful.

We spent this morning at the storage yard helping my dad wash his boat. At almost-three, Ethan is, above all else, a helper. He doesn't care what you're doing -- he's going to want to help. There are so many little moments taking up these days and I need to promise myself to get better about writing it all down. Tonight we watched a video of Ethan when he was learning to speak and my husband and I both remarked how we barely remember him being that little. Isn't that the way life works, the way everyone is always insisting life works? I need to promise myself to take better notes.

1 comment:

  1. What an amazing little helper (and a very happy grandpa).


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