Betcha' thought I'd given up on this whole blogging thing. I haven't, and I've got things on my mind to write about, but the routine I so longed for is different this year, and I couldn't figure out when to sneak this in. A friend this weekend said she's giving herself until October to get a groove going. I hope it doesn't take me that long, but if it does, it does.
My kids are all in different school buildings this year, each on their own schedule, leaving the house and coming home at all different times. The nice thing about it: I get one-on-one time with each child every morning. The hard-to-get-used-to part: By 8:30, I've been up for two and a half hours, and I haven't gotten
anything done, except get everyone out the door. This is fine, it's just something I have to get used to.
The biggest fan of the new morning routine? Greta. Especially on mornings when the kids have cereal for breakfast. There is the hope that she'll get to lick THREE different bowls of milk. This hope gets her so happy in the mornings, that she purrs and wraps herself around our feet all morning long. She flops over and makes herself all cute and irresistible to each groggy blondy at the table, treating them as if they're her most favorite person. It's fun watching them each fall in love with her a little bit more each morning.
I'm trying to follow her example, and show them my devotion, sending them off every morning knowing they're deeply loved. I draw the line at rubbing my face on their feet, though.
And then, how did it happen so fast that he's now this pre-teen, lanky, head-full-of-ideas all his own, getting ready to grow up kid?! It is truly a miracle. And he is truly a blessing.
