Ribbons, & lace, & blah, blah, blah.

I have officially entered the world of little girls...again. Seeing Annalise begin to respond to dolls and toys has made my memory bloom vividly with my childhood. I am walking around in a daze that smells like Strawberry Shortcake and Barbie hair. I remember twirling around in long skirts and putting pillowcases on my head to pretend it is either my long hair or my head covering while I am Mary, mother of Jesus. Don't all little girls pretend that they are the mother of God? Just me? Well, that fits.

I tell you what, ribbons and lace might just be the most fun thing in the world to a mother of sons who has only previously experienced small-scale explosives, foul smells, and anything bug related. Though my little girl passes gas like a locomotive, growls better than her brothers, and can blow snot a full 10 inches out her nose, she is cuddly, good-smelling, and loves to listen to me talk to her. I spend my morning with her in her high chair in the kitchen, talking and singing to her while I clean and cook. Just when I think my heart will swell up with estrogen-laced pride, I look over at her and she very stoically says, "blah, blah, blah, blah..." She always finishes her sentence with a big grin, completely oblivious to my great and wonderful wisdom that she has just dismissed. Oh well. Someday we'll have nice long chats over pretend tea and then I'll blog about all her crazy questions and sayings and try and remember the days when she couldn't even talk. At least I won't be the only one wearing a tutu around the house anymore.

Back to the keys...

I haven't sat and just pondered life with a keyboard for a LONG time. Dathan and I drove to Seattle this last week to pursue job opportunities out there and maybe some big changes for our family in the future. While driving, yes driving, there and back we had lots of time to talk about us, our family, and our place in this world and the one to come. I also had some good time to ponder my VERY full life and schedule in the mommy-seat. I switch roles like a European train station sign, constantly flipping to a new one, tick tick tick tick tick. I feed. I clean. I wipe tears. I teach. I referee. I hug. I toss. I yell. I greet. I remind. I chat. I coach. I cry. I create. I pray. I, I, I am who? In the midst of this swirl of my life, what remains constant about me? Who am I? Strip away the titles: mommy, wife, stylist, friend, sister, daughter, maid, cook... What remains true about me? I have a heart that longs to return to it's soft and safe resting place, God loves me. Just me. I don't have to strive to do, or be, anything. His love does not depend on how I look, what my parenting style is, how many chapters of the bible I read this morning, what my home looks like, if I train my children at home or send them off to school, the size of my backside. He just loves me. He delights in my laughter and cherishes each fallen tear. You know how in action movies during a really intense scene all of a sudden everything slows to a near stop, the camera spins around the room showing all sides of the situation, and then it goes slamming back into full sound and action? God's love is like that for me these days. Just a split second here, a fraction of a thought there and...comfort. The noise never changes, "MOM! He did this! Mom, can I just be with you? Waa! I need a new diaper. What time are we eating? Mom! The baby spit up! Hey, can you get this done? Can you meet me here? Can you go there?" but in the middle of it, ahhh, He loves me. Just me. I'm me.