Romper

I love me a good romper, especially for an occasion like Easter. I found a darling one from this Etsy shop, which I'd definitely recommend.

Messy

I've spent a lot of this weekend mulling, discussing, and contemplating what it means to be a believer and what it means to have moral freedom within a highly structured organization. The older I get and the more I think about these things, the messier they all get. And I think that's a good thing. I'm starting to think I wouldn't want it any other way, actually.

And perhaps being on the path that approaches what I hope to be the truth is the closest I'm going to get to truth--in fact, it could be that all that's possible is an approaching or a departing.

(One unfortunate by-product of all this is that my messy thoughts don't easily translate into posts, so nothing coherent on these subject will necessarily be forthcoming.)

Six months old

This cute boy is six months old (and then some). He is pretty much nothing but slobber, rolls, smiles, and joy.

For Mother's Day

A post by my dear friend Danielle.

Not dear because I've known her for years (though I guess it has been a few now) or because I see or talk to her often, but dear because despite all that, I feel like I've known her forever and wish I could talk to her daily. We are in very similar situations in life, with girls one day apart in age and baby boys only a few months further.

She often says things on her blog so honestly and beautifully that capture exactly how I'm feeling in that moment. And she's also one of the very best mothers I know. And by "best," I mean that she has an amazing ability to peel away the many layers that obscure the heart of this mothering business and get to the essence of things.

It's a good post to read to steel yourself for the upcoming praises that are often sung to "perfect" mothers on Mother's Day. Does anyone else end up feeling both loved and quite guilty on this holiday? Well, Danielle will remedy that by explaining the true miracle of motherhood.

Friends

Zoë is three and quickly developing a social life. The next door neighbors have many attractions: six kids, including girls ages 4 and 5, a trampoline, big-kid bikes, swings, chickens, dogs, and a sandbox. Zoë escapes there whenever possible. Though I can see their backyard through my kitchen window, I'm wary of letting her be over there without me. She is, after all, only three and there are, after all, six kids, two dogs, and many chickens in the mix.

But today Josh was under a deadline, Nico was coming down with the virus Zoë had just recovered from, the house was a mess, Zoë had had a really boring day, and I was trying to cook. So I gave in to her pleas to play with her friends but made her promise to stay outside where I could see her.

The next thing I knew, she came tearing into the house explaining something to me at top speed. I was on the phone and didn't catch a word of what she was saying, but by the time I followed her into her room, she had stripped her clothes off, found her swimming suit, and changed into it. I turned around and Aliya, the four year-old neighbor, was behind me. She and Zoë lit out of the house with the words "playing" and "sand" and "swimsuit" floating behind them.

The next time I turned around, they were in the hallway on the way to our bathroom. Again, I followed. This time Zoë said "Mom, can we take a shower? I wery wery want to take a bath with my friend." I told her that she could take a bath later, after dinner, and to go outside to play.

Thirty seconds later, through my kitchen window, I see her and Aliya disappearing into Aliya's house. Aliya's mother follows them in. I wait a few minutes and no one exits, so I walk over and Nando (the oldest boy) informs me that "Zoë is taking a bath." That stinker. He invites me in and I find Zoë with Aliya and Dulce all bathing in their swimming suits. I gather that Zoë has at least implied my consent to this action.

I take her home (Aliya trailing at my heels), get her dried off, and then Aliya's swimming suit comes off and they're both changing into princess costumes.

Next I see two princesses swinging and chasing dogs around the yard.

I call Zoë home for dinner. Once she arrives (with Aliya, of course), she insists that Aliya give her the princess dress back. Aliya happily does so and runs home in nothing but her undies.

And Zoë declares, "I wery wery love my friends!"

I'm seeing visions of what the summer is going to be like.

Daily choices

On a good day, I can get four of these done but most days, only three:

Work

Exercise

Errands

Cooking

Dishes

Showering

Bathing kids

Picking up the house

Bed at reasonable hour

Leisure time

Photos/blog updates

House/sewing projects

Work is a constant. I often have trouble picking the other two or three. What would you choose?

Yin yang

Are we far enough removed from the 1990s that the title of this post can bring to mind something other than cheesy jewelry?

Although Zoë and Nico are alike in lots of ways, sometimes it's fun to think about the ways they contrast.

Born nearly 6 months apart to the day. Spring flowers, fall leaves. Late at night, early morning. Hours of intense labor next to a collection of minutes.

Curly blond hair, blue eyes, fairest skin next to straight as sticks dark hair, brown eyes, and olive skin.

Energetic and lively, demanding and talkative next to calm and relaxed, serene and peaceful.

Who knows how they'll change exactly, but I think they'll always complement each other.