in the mornings

On those mornings when everyone is out the door and Sawyer and I are alone with our breakfast, it is quiet.

Lately he shares his thoughts in his two word smiley sentences.  Often I bring a stack of books and read to him as it takes him much longer to eat than I and it feels kind of bad to leave him sitting eating by his lonesome while I run around his high chair cleaning and starting my daily to-do list.

So we read.  Mostly about farm animals. 

My husband and I both grew up on farms and it has taken six children to produce a farmer (maybe? fingers crossed?).  Of course we don’t have a favorite child but certainly getting SUPER excited about horses (HORSEY HORSEY HORSEYYYY) and cows (COOOOOWWWW) earns some points.

This morning I read poems.  He loved the sing songy rhythm of my voice.  Poems are so fun.

They make me think of summer and sunshine and linen aprons and the sandbox and birds dipping against the blue sky.

Someday maybe it will be summer again? Please?

I shall write my own poem about Sawyer:

My littlest boy is a sweet, smiley chap.

He climbs each day for a story on my lap.

He might be spoiled, perhaps just a bit.

But he the youngest and may throw a fit.

So we feed him and hold him

and fill him with love.

Our little Sawyer—a gift from above.

write what you know

Blogging has evolved these last couple years, maybe just for me but it seems the general “mood” of it has changed.  Much like the mom and pop stores that used to line every main street slowly disappeared, it seems the same type of blogs are fading away.  The kind of blogs that are a whole lot about nothing.  They have always inspired me by their everyday life.  I like the trade of words and photos… a day of my everyday life for a day of yours.  Though I write often it seems it just hasn’t been on my blog.

This leads me to blog writers block.  I don’t know enough stuff to be an expert on anything.  And it seems that is where most of the blogs I would frequent have headed.  Which is fine, too.  Oh, I am so wishy washy.

I have  lot of kids and I might have some default parenting advice occasionally.  But am I an expert mother? Umm, no.

I cook food everyday, but it is usually not pinterest pretty (trust me).

I can sew but that usually is equal parts seam ripping, so scratch that.

Maybe it falls to perspective.  My thoughts on things seem passionate to me.  This has only been exponentially grown by the last year of my life.  I am grateful for a lot of stuff. 

I love that Sawyer can be so happy at wearing just a hat and a diaper.  (he is just like his father)

I love that last weekend when my husband drove our beloved 16 year old van to the junk yard he might have gotten choked up a bit.  That van has been driven through the mountains of Turkey, through the streets of Paris and back and forth across the States too many times to count. She barely made it to the junk yard but she did it.  We named her Caroline when we bought her after Ma Ingalls as she was such a strong woman.  What? You don’t name your cars????

Is it silly to tell you I am thinking of making another quilt only from my stash but after much deliberation I have decided my stash is no good?  I feel like a moody fashion designer. It just won’t work as I give a disgusted wave of my hand.

So many thoughts and so little time. But always feeling grateful.  Always.