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Something about this time of year...when the book bags are packed with an abundance of labeled glue sticks, lunch boxes smell of new plastic instead of stale ritz crackers and 1,385 crayon pieces have been replaced with 48 intact crayons...something about THIS time of year, it makes me feel pretty nostalgic. Today was open house for yet another school year that we will conquer. We visited teachers of years passed, talked with friends and parents from old classes and most importantly, met the two women who will take part in molding these little lives for the next nine months. The women who will be their mother away from home. The women who will remind them to wash their hands, clean up behind themselves and to treat others how you would want to be treated...and let me just tell y'all...a tear comes to my eye just thinking about having to share my babies with these strangers. Tonight, after what felt like a full day of school-related festivities, the kids are running wild from excitement. After all, it is our last night of no bed-time. Unlike the "modern mom" that I'm supposed to be, we haven't crossed the get-back-into-routine bridge yet. Summer was short enough as it is, no need to rush the inevitable. We have all spent the last 75ish days doing what we want and when we want to do it. The kids would eat when they got hungry, they'd sleep when they got tired and they'd wake up when they didn't feel like sleeping anymore. We have known nothing of any schedule. My poor house has seen better days because I, too, took summer vacation. There has been a basket of "clothes I need to hang" sitting in the corner for nearly the whole summer. Y'all don't judge me, I've had youngins to enjoy. So tonight, as I get ready to call it another day, I found myself staring at our stairs and feeling overwhelmed with how quickly time can pass us by. I am so blessed for the three little bodies who leave so much laying behind. I am in awe at the amount of life that our home knows. And I am so thankful that I am able to let go of keeping the house clean and absorb what will not be around forever. Like I told Kendall tonight, it's sad to think that our stairs won't always look like this.
"The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep."
