Tuesday, July 19, 2011

All Together Again

I'm happy to report that all the Roberts are together again. As fun as Jamboree is, it's always nice to get back to paradise where, honestly, the laundry never gets done and the squabbles make up the background song of my life. This is where I belong; here, in these precious days, with my family of children and my sweet mate.

I feel the shifting of summer almost as keenly as I was feeling the shifting of motherhood last week. It's hotter than blue blazes. Now that Jamboree, a true summer hallmark, has passed, I'm thinking of fair days and school shopping. I'm not ready for them yet, but they are on my periphery.

My biggest desire right now is to make the money match up. The influx and--my stars!--the outward stream. Every parent dreams of a better life for their kids. It's hoped that we'll all be just a little bit further ahead than the previous generation. But it's getting harder to see that through.

At this point, I'm wondering how to tell the kids to pursue their careers. Luckily, I do have some time to figure that out.

Do you do what you love or what pays the bills? What do you do when you aren't doing either? Do you cross your fingers and hope that you are one of those rare people who do both? Oh, and while I'm asking questions, how do I become, at my slightly advanced age, one of those people?

I think I do what I'm doing. I keep my head on straight, my heart in the game. I don't dismiss my tired brain from the work of it all, but instead, think deeply and often about how I will bridge the gaps. How will I take this situation and make it better? Just where are my bootstraps, and how hard can I pull them?

I'm in something of a pensive state on this subject, but I'm grateful, blessed, chosen to have this life. This one, right here.

The one where I got puked on four times by a baby Sunday night and shared a shallow midnight bath with him before finally getting to sleep; the one where I had to scratch a back longer than I planned after a tired Lily discovered her favorite--and, of course, irreplaceable--pillow missing after her county-wide, three-night tour; the life where I get to see my two-year-old's pride in riding his tiny bike in endless circles around the dining room table; and finally, the one where I get to repeatedly answer the five-year-old's question of the week: "Yes, God knows everyone's names."

This is the Roberts house. There is no doubt in my mind that God knows we're here. And we're all together again.

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