Notes to My Loves

      My children did not sleep through the night until they were two. Yes you read that right. This is for all those mothers and fathers out there who hear my pain, share in my blood shot eyes, and ingest caffeine  to such degree that we probably need some sort of group therapy. Now, having said that, for my two oldest children, two was the magic number. Once they hit it we were in a slumber land so divine it reveled images of dancing sugarplums and fairy dust. A book or two, a snuggle, perhaps a sip of milk and they were golden. All was good in our land of dreams. Then came my baby girl and her entrance to the world of 2.       This week has been a transition week with all of us returning to work and daycare. I get that it is hard and out of our normal summer routine.  I get that we are having to get up earlier and leave the house while our eyes are still adjusting to the light much like small creatures that live underground. I get that their little bodies are more tired with all th

       I remember when we had brought 9 home to our little brick ranch that hot day in July. My father quietly looked down at us snuggling on the couch and said, "He is all yours." It is one of those memories that are snapshots in your mind. And I remember hearing from all the seasoned mothers including my own, "Cherish these times because they fly by."  I have tried to keep those words close to the functioning part of my sleep exhausted and often fogged mind.  I remember the night snuggling with him and tucking him in, that he didn't 'fit' in the crook of my body, like he had so many nights before. He was growing, he was changing, and I couldn't stop it.       Then I had 6 and heard the same words echoed by those who love us. He was the tiniest of my babies and I was amazed at how much he loved to snuggle. He was perfect, and tiny, and sweet. Surely he wouldn't get too big too fast, right?  Wrong.      And finally we greeted 2. What a joyous t

    When someone asks me where I grew up, I always say, "Everywhere". Then I explain that I am a brat. A military brat that is. I have moved 14 times in my life and attended 10 different schools. These moves occurred all before I turned 26 years old, and usually occurred every three years with the exception here and there being shorter or a tad longer. Needless to say, I still have the ability to unpack a box of things and reorganize a room in record time. My mom is a pro! I learned from the best.      The thing is, for the longest time my world revolved around change. It wasn't always easy, and there were a lot of tears. On move #6, from Ohio to California, I barely spoke a word  the first couple of days on our cross country road trip. My parents tried their best to make it interesting by stopping by such exciting teen destinations as "The Cowboy Hall of Fame" and we might have seen the world's biggest ball of wax. Okay so maybe that is a bit of an exagger