I used to think that every blog post needed a “theme.” Decorating. Writing. Jane. Marriage. Now they all sort of run together, a messy landscape of colors and crafts and messes and meals. It’s hard to partition things into themes these days.
Life. It’s a mesh of pink roses blooming in the yard, housework, regular work, intense games of peekaboo with Jane (that’s her favorite new hiding spot in the library). It’s a blur of walks around the neighborhood cereal for breakfast, patio lights, shrimp on the grill, and gorgeous springtime sunlight. Have I mentioned the pink roses?
Of course, life is also piles of dirty laundry, a moth problem in our pantry that is a constant battle despite the new paint and glass food containers. It’s a junky garage and some fairly serious fits from Miss Jane.Two year old fits people, it’s stuff of legend. I remember my sisters’ fits back in the day, but they weren’t really my responsibility. Jane is my responsibility, and it puts things on a whole new level. She got mad at me on Saturday and grabbed onto my leg, screaming. I picked her up and put her in her bedroom and shut the door. She screamed, and wailed, and beat on the door. It lasted about five minutes. When things got quiet I opened the door and peeked in. She was sitting in the middle of the floor, hugging her bunny rabbit, sniffing and wiping her nose. I hugged her and thanked her for being a big girl and not crying anymore. She wrapped her arms around my neck and said, “I wuv you.” And then my heart exploded in my chest.
See? There’s no themes for posts anymore. Our lives are just a big jumble of chaos, beautiful and nutty. I wouldn’t trade it. I would, however, trade some of our gorgeous roses for a few extra hours of sleep. Oh sleep, you elusive lady you.