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.

No Use Crying

Nope, not me. I'm not crying over forgetting to take breast milk to the sitter's house, wasted gasoline, liquid creamer all over the kitchen floor, a $119 speeding ticket or Lily getting on the wrong bus and coming home to an empty house. No, there is no use crying.

I did almost cry when I had a nice moment with a coworker this morning during which she asked me what God was telling me and I said, "To hang on."

And I did almost cry when I heard my crying girl over a neighbor's phone today, sobbing from hearing her mommy trying to reach her on the answering machine but not remembering, in the moment, that in order to talk on our new phones, you press a green button and not the center button.

I knew this year would be hard. First years with new babies always are. And guess what? This year is hard. Really hard. (Really.)

I'm fighting the urge to make changes... I won't make changes. I'll hang on and roll with the punches. I'll push on, and, soon, I'll look back to see the progress I've made.

And if I can keep this perspective, just get through the not-so-hot days, cherish the good days, and see that most days are both, at any given moment, I'll come out of this crazy thing a better person. I know the weather will improve--hopefully before we all grow fins--and these days will be infused with the Vitamin D I've been needing.

And there's no use crying. Unless, of course, I need to. Then I will. But no, not now. I'm good. =)