It’s a grey Saturday afternoon and I’m at Daryl’s celebrating his eighth birthday. Daryl, Laura, Stephanie, Fred, Shauna, Lisa, Scott and I are crouched around a coffee table in his wood panelled basement, our legs folded in our corduroy trousers. Our snow suits are hanging on the radiators upstairs; we were playing outside on the mountain of snow in the church parking lot across the street when Daryl’s mom called us in. It was time to party.
I remember wondering how it would feel.. it was hard, but then was a lovely emerging and reacquainting of just the two of us forming new routines.. then the expansion of love with a bigger family of love with all the littles ❤️
The disorder is the great paradox of motherhood. Infuriating in real time and heartbreaking in its absence. Embrace the mess and stamp the memories in your heart for tidier times. And eat rice pudding xx
My children are grown and flown. I can't honestly say I miss the detritus that came with that phase of our lives, but I do sometimes long for the beautiful chaos of our time under one roof. That's what's missing from the empty nest tray!
Beautiful wall color! Especially with that pop of red 🧨
I remember wondering how it would feel.. it was hard, but then was a lovely emerging and reacquainting of just the two of us forming new routines.. then the expansion of love with a bigger family of love with all the littles ❤️
The disorder is the great paradox of motherhood. Infuriating in real time and heartbreaking in its absence. Embrace the mess and stamp the memories in your heart for tidier times. And eat rice pudding xx
:sigh:
My children are grown and flown. I can't honestly say I miss the detritus that came with that phase of our lives, but I do sometimes long for the beautiful chaos of our time under one roof. That's what's missing from the empty nest tray!
An aside: Those floors!! 😍