What I Fear Losing the Most

or in my case, write about . . . tee hee!

Yesterday, as I was preparing my first assignment for familyshare.com (woohoo!), I came across this quote on Pinterest (and yes, being on Pinterest was part of the job). It really hit a chord with me because I had spent the entire day trying to figure out how I could capture all the awesomeness of our day. Nothing special happened. In fact, I wasn't even in the greatest mood and I had to sneak off a couple of times to squeeze a little cry out.  Why?  Well, let's just chalk it up to being a woman and that, sometimes, I feel life very intensely. I can't say I was sad because there were so many times yesterday my heart brimmed with joy, but maybe that was just it.  Sometimes when we are so close to exactly what we have always wanted, we also become acutely aware of just how fragile it all is. And I think this is why I had to cry, to release the fear of losing all of this someday and to have it all become nothing but a fading memory.

Like I said, nothing spectacular happened yesterday, but right now, the ebb and flow of our days are truly magical.  They are peaceful, and they feel right. 

I woke up and while Mr. Level-Headed was in the shower, I went out and made his and Baby Girl's lunch.  Then I threw supper together and dumped it in the Crockpot.  (A dear friend of mine shared this secret of success with me years ago, and it makes all the difference in the world.  Supper needs to be made in the morning.  Trust me!) I kissed them goodbye as they made their way out the door into the cold dark morning. Then I straightened the kitchen up and went back to my room, where I said a prayer, read my scriptures, made my bed and wrote my blog post.  This is my favourite time of the day! The day has just begun, the house is quiet, and I am all alone with nothing but my thoughts, my photos, and my laptop.

Then, the boys woke up.  They each came in for a snuggle before they headed off to the shower.  I finished my post and made our breakfast.  Then, as I got my shower, the boys began their morning routine, which includes reading scriptures (They are half way done the Book of Mormon. I am so proud of them!), making their beds, and cleaning up their bathroom. When they were done, they ran to the basement for their half an hour of screen time.  This is their favourite time of the day!

When I finally emerged from my room, coiffed and ready, I noticed that Elliot had stacked all of our homeschool books on the table.  He is finally getting into the groove of this crazy homeschooling thing, and nothing could make me happier!  Then I called the boys up and we started school.  The boys worked on their cursive, spelling and grammar, while I made pizza for lunch.  The house smelled divine!

After lunch, I taught the boys their math lesson.  Avery's lesson was on probability and included playing dice games.  He was over the moon excited!  Elliot's lesson was on organizing, plotting and interpreting data.  Needless to say, he was less than thrilled . . . tee hee! Then they read and practiced piano, while I cleaned up the lunch dishes.

Finally, it was piano time.  I dropped them off at their lesson and returned home to start working on my new writing assignment.  Then before I knew it, it was time to pick them up again.  I brought the boys home and they decided to go out and play in the snow.  Just then, my mom called and so I curled up in bed and talked to her for an hour.  Now, it was time to pick up Zoe from piano (the bus drops her off).  

As soon as Baby Girl entered the house, the craziness picked up.  She may not be the wild child of our house, but she is definitely a catalyst for the wildness.  Everything seems to get louder and busier the minute she returns.

Initially, I had planned to have an Indian curry chicken dish for supper, but while I was talking to mom, she reminded me that it was pancake Tuesday. So, I put the chicken in the fridge for tomorrow, and tried a new gluten-free pancake recipe (our first recipe was less than successful). It was a hit! As we slurped on our strawberry smoothies and scarfed down our syrup-sloppy pancakes, we laughed and shared stories about our day.

When supper was finished, the boys and I decided to go out and have a snowball war, while Baby Girl studied for her social studies test.  The night was perfect!  The sun was just setting behind the hill that overlooks our house.  The air was crisp, and you could smell the water in the air from the rain showers we had earlier in the day.  The snow was wet and easy to clump, perfect snow-ball making snow.  The boys and I threw snow at each other, we hid in the forts they made earlier, and we made daring escapes down the hill on our sleds.  One of these escapes, involved me sliding backwards down the hill with Scout on my lap . . . eeek!  Long story! When I returned to the top and after the boys tried to recreate my epic (their words not mine) slide, we made snowballs and stored them in the forts to ambush Mr. Level-Headed with when he returned home from school.

Eventually our mittens became soaked and our toes became too cold, and so we returned to the house.  I finished up the rough draft of my assignment, while the boys ate popcorn and watched some Batman cartoons.  As I was cleaning up the kitchen for the gazillionth time that day, I saw Mr. Level-Headed pull into the driveway. Ugh!  Of all nights, he came home early.

I greeted him at the door and whined that he had spoiled our plans. He laughed.  Baby Girl was finally done studying and came out to tell him all about her day.  Then the boys rushed up the stairs, shouting about our snowball war and the forts they had made and all about their Xbox adventures. 

This is how we greet Mr. Level-Headed everyday. It must be a little overwhelming, but he never complains.  He laughs, he nods, and he assures us that it sounds like we had a great day. 

While Mr. Level-Headed unpacked his bags and hung up his work clothes, the boys sat down to paint the clay bowls they made the day before for our study of Ancient China. As soon as they were done, we scooted them off to get their jammies on and to brush their teeth, and we all slipped into our bedtime routine.  

Each  night we meet in the boys room, where Mr. Level-Headed reads a scripture and explains it, while the boys hang upside down in their beds and Zoe cuddles with Scout on the floor. Mr. Level-Headed always looks up at me, smiles and asks:

Do you think they get it?

Sure.

And I can't help but smile back at him.  

Then we all kneel together and say a prayer.  I kiss the boys goodnight and Mr. Level-Headed gives them their knuckle-bumps. I say goodnight to Zoe, who then packs up her bags for the next day and continues to tell her dad all about her volleyball or soccer practices.  I turn off the lights in the main room and head to bed.  As soon as Mr. Level-Headed and I are in bed, I finally ask him how his day was and he always answers in the exact same way:

uneventful.

So, then I go on more about my day.  I vent my concerns and my frustrations and elaborate on any grand ideas that I may have conjured up.

Then I turn out the light.

Don't forget my kiss!

Do I ever?

Nope.

I love you, Babe.

I love you, Beautiful.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

And we each roll over and fall asleep.

I know this can't last forever.  The ebb and flow of our days will eventually change.  The kids will grow up, and we will grow old.  Don't get me wrong, though, I am excited for the time when it is just Mr. Level-Headed and I once again, but I really like where we are right now.  And so, I take a million pictures each day and I spend my mornings writing down everything no matter how foolish or how insignificant it is because it is all this, with all of them in it, that I fear losing the most.

Go on, take a look at your photographs, what do you fear losing the most?

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