You put some bark right in the flame, here, and it burns really easily!
Just a little trick for when you're an old lady and Dad's not here. Micah and I won't always be around, you know!~Corban, while he helped build and light the fire yesterday morning.
Yesterday, I was a newlywed, and still learning how to cook.
Today, he honks a deep-but-squeaky laugh so startling that I think it must be his daddy. But it isn't. It's my eleven-year-old. That silly little boy joke resulted in a big-boy laugh, and I'm left baffled and blinking.
Yesterday, I was twenty-one and reading the pregnancy test, scared and excited and shaking and blissful.
Today, he finds my hand at the grocery store and doesn't let go for ages, talking my ear off. And his hand is big. Really big. As in, it's dwarfing my hand, and it's dry and callused and strong. And now I'm blinking back tears, but they're happy, too, cause he's oblivious to everyone and he's still holding my hand.
Yesterday, I became a mama, and we bundled up our newborn, firstborn son and drove home at a snail's pace, my battered, weak body cocooning his as we gingerly stepped over the threshold.
Today, I watch through the kitchen window as he hops down from the climbing ropes in the trees and scoops up his baby brother, balancing him confidently on one hip, the two of them talking and gesturing and I don't even need to knock on the window to remind him to be careful. He is.
Yesterday, I was just a kid, right? Cause I still want to sit and read and eat M&M's all day and ignore my chores and sigh like a teenager when it's time for bed and sleep till the afternoon and have someone else make my food.
But today, I'm reminded that I'm a mama. And just when I feel like someone should notify the proper authorities that a kid is raising four children and is responsible for their schooling and diet and overall well-being...
...he calls me an old lady.
Bam. Hello, reality.
You look amazing.
little big boy, Corban, moonlighting as William Wallace, fighting a friend Frodo at the Harvest Party.