When I look at this picture of my kids, I can't believe how fast they are growing up.
Is it normal to love watching them grow and to cry watching them grow all at the same time?
Luke is a tween.
Seth is almost double digits.
And, Lydia is nearly five.
I wonder why moms constantly feel like they could be doing more?
Is it all moms or just certain moms, like me?
Why do I end my nights wishing I'd sat with them more?
...wishing I'd talked with them more?
...wishing I did crafts every day of the week?
...wishing I'd read just one or two more books?
...wishing I'd sat outside for a few more minutes watching them shoot hoops?
...wishing I'd dressed baby dolls for one more hour?
...wishing I'd invited them into the kitchen to help with one more meal?
My mom says that my generation worries so much more about this kind of stuff
than she and her friends ever did.
What do you think?
150. hot chocolate from starbucks.
151. a mom who tells me I'm doing a great job mothering these babies that aren't babies anymore.
152. a savior who brings peace when the *try hard life* attempts to draw me in.