Sometimes, on nice evenings, if dinner’s ready and the floodgates of heaven aren’t open, we step outside for a few minutes waiting for Papa to get home.
We talk to ants, point at airplanes, tell birds to hurry up and fly, and ask where all the puddles went.
Sometimes we stop for a moment, pick up our favorite succulent, think…
…and then question the wisdom of what we’ve just done.
Oh, this little person.
She’s very much a two-year-old. Perfectly quirky. She loves pirates and hates greens. She’d rather eat kefir than a donut, or almost anything else, except “mac and roni” which trumps all. She yells “Hi, baby!” to every non-adult she sees, no matter their age. And she has her own way of talking. “Fat put-tee”, of course, means “splash puddles”. And “kay yay-yi-yo” is her own little riff on “thank you, Aveline”. She sleeps every night surrounded by dozens of stuffed animals, but among them all, only Mr. Fox, Baby Fox, and Football Dog need to be kissed goodnight.
She loves to have her hair and teeth brushed. She always is sneaking into the bathroom to dab at her cheeks with mama’s makeup brushes. And destroying one of papa’s paintbrushes in a muddle of dull brown mixed watercolors, well, that’s a delight all its own.
She sings about the itsy-bitsy spider every chance she gets, “Fider, up. Fider, wain, down, ‘way. Fider, up sun, Fider, ‘gain!” When she hears dogs or neighborhood kids outside, she yells “Some babies! Some barks! Some dogs!” and runs to the window.
She’s a perpetual motion machine, my wild child.
And I’ve never done this before, this wild-child-raising.
I don’t know how.
Every day, I’m faced with situations that don’t make sense. (Toddlers don’t make sense. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying.)
I don’t have all the answers. And in my very short experience so far, I’ve seen that parenting is simultaneously humbling and exhilarating and terrifying and rewarding. I don’t have it all figured out. And I don’t imagine I ever will.
And that’s why this isn’t, and never will be, a parenting advice blog. First of all, I don’t have any to give. And second, my goal isn’t to figure it all out. I’m not chasing the answers. I’m not chasing perfection (thank goodness!) I’m chasing joy. I’m chasing hope. I’m chasing Jesus.
So you won’t find answers or advice here, because don’t have any. But what I do have, I can share; glimpses into our lives, beauty in the everyday, and the reason for our hope.
And I can tell you this — there’s not a day in which I don’t ask beg God for wisdom!
Because, let’s be real.
Sometimes my child chooses to dress herself like this…
…while she Cy Twombly‘s it up.
Do you think Twombly wore matching boots?
I could just pinch those perfectly round cheeks.
I’m mourning the end of our “children under the age of two fly free” days.
Like, truly mourning.
:(
Sometimes my wild child really surprises me. Her energy is boundless — she’s always climbing (and falling off of) something — but then she suddenly pauses, and inside that moment, she is one hundred percent girl.
how cute is this little handmade dress from the darling etsy shop strawberry poppins? the only thing better than these amazing clothes is the reason why marie has started this shop. (the excerpt below is directly from her etsy bio) —
In January 2012, my family and i will be moving to Moldova, Eastern Europe. Moldova is the poorest European country and our desire is to serve the people there. 90% of sales will go towards our moving costs, flights, living expenses, etc. Additionally, 10% of sales will go to another cause very dear to our hearts – – orphan care and awareness. Please visit www.hopetakesroot.com if you are interested in learning more about this cause. [read more]
(image via strawberry poppins on etsy)
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