Writing. And sharing.

I have been writing. Some. Just not for public consumption. I’ve been taking lots of photographs. Another medium for my creativity. Or maybe I’m just scared to post the thoughts I’ve written. A little of both, perhaps.

So much is happening in my our world right now. Babies growing up. Babies being born. Babies being mourned. So much to get done. It’s often difficult for me to determine what is truly important and what I can…should let slide for another time. So I make lots of lists. I tease My Man about his anal, logistician lists but honestly…I make several lists each day. I can tease him because I keep mine hidden…he sticks his to the fridge front for all to see.

And that’s okay. His list is a reminder of all things needing to be done. My lists are more like…wish lists. Get up early. Walk. Weights. Healthy breakfast. Time with the Lover of my soul. Organize. Clean. Purge. Repeat.

And I think that my lists are okay too. Each day I do eat more healthy. And I force my people to do so. Each day I purge a bit of stuff and organize a bit more. The walking and the gym and the yoga will come along. Sooner more so than later.

The Princess with her great-grandmother, grandmother and mommy

For a few more days, my two oldest are both 23. Only 11 months (and a day) apart, they might as well be 11 years apart. So different are they. I know that is true of all children. Twins and Irish twins alike. I can barely remember any of them at 3 weeks of age. The age of sweet baby girl next door. I am admittedly obsessed…totally in love with her. Confirming again that I am so ready for grands. In the proper order I tell my three. My oldest two are now older than The Boy. At least in life years. In eternity years he would have turned 26 this year. Even his baby sisters are quickly gaining and in another year and a half, will pass his time here. And my baby, The WILD Boy. How he makes my heart laugh. So unlike them all. So like all of them in a tiny feather plucked way from each.