When Anna was going through her own scaled-down version of the "Terrible Two's," other mothers would often warn: "But wait until she hits the Threes."  So we got through the Two's unscathed, even with the addition of a little sister, and entered into what was, for awhile, the Lovely Threes. And then, almost imperceptibly, we noticed something shifting around Three and a Half. Her intensity and penchant toward the dramatic has increased astronomically. Her need for mama to hold her "RIGHT NOW" is as automatic and as necessary as her need for oxygen. And her desire to do everything "BY MYSELF" now borders on preschool-aged defiance and she will struggle endlessly, and alone, until she accomplishes what she has set out to do. 

This is her work, I know. This is what she must go through during this phase of development, and I admire her perseverance.  

But there are moments, lovely instances of letting it all go, where she unselfconsciously allows the goofiness to bubble through.

I am a blog-reader, I admit. Most of the blogs in my queue are written by other mothers detailing the lives of their children. Some of these mothers choose to write about the nitty-gritty details of raising children and I simply relish their honesty.  Often I will let out a deep breath (a breath that I did not even know I was holding) when I read about a mother who, like me, adores her children with every cell in her body, but in a moment of weakness, a moment when both kids are yelling or crying and both want her to hold them and the dog is barking and the husband is doing the dishes that she feels like she should be doing, she momentarily freaks out. She yells. Or feels like she has failed. Or thinks about getting in the car and driving away for a little bit. These are the blogs I love to read, because mothering tiny little people is lovely and wonderful and  hard.  

 Then there are the blogs written by the "perfect" mothers. These are the mothers who display gorgeous photographs of their crafts on their blogs, complicated crafts that they do with their children underfoot which still manage to come out perfectly. These are the mothers who don't talk about the laundry that has piled up, or about the shirts they wear that always have food on the shoulder from the baby wiping her mouth in the same spot. But I do love reading these blogs too, because I'm a sucker for the images of the crafty mama knitting by candlelight nearby the woodstove while the baby sleeps on her lap. I love the feeling of coziness I get when I see the photos of these children dressed in mama's handmade sweaters or handsewn pants, feeding the chickens or trekking through the snow on a nature-walk.

I like learning and reading about how other families raise and love their babies (or at least what they want to show us of the lovely but messy process).  I read the blogs and feel like I'm a part of something bigger than myself, part of this deep commitment we all have called mothering, and I feel the connection between us, between the perfect and not-so-perfect mothers. And truly, we're all the same, for it's the love of our children that is the blood that binds us together.

The snow is here! We had our first snowstorm of the season last Tuesday, and it lasted into Wednesday afternoon. About 15 inches fell during that time, and even though we did not build a snowman or even go sledding, we did bundle up the girls for a walk down our street once the snow let up. Little Eliza wore her snow pants and snow boots for the first time but was more comfortable being wrapped in her mama's arms than actually walking in the snow. Anna, however, loves the snow. She literally throws herself into the packed snow banks, giggling with delight and disbelief.

 

After months of watching Anna get ready for preschool, Eliza now wants to do the same thing. . .

So proud of herself!

Where's my baby and who put this sweet toddler in her place?

(For Mimi, who wanted to see these photos)

This is often how the kids amuse themselves while we're prepping for dinner:

And tonight we await a snowstorm. Hopefully we can make a snowman and possibly do some sledding tomorrow. Stay tuned. . .

I had chosen other photos and created a different posting for tonight. The photos were silly ones of the girls hiding in the kitchen cabinets while we made dinner. But even after I pressed "publish post," I kept thinking of the following photos, and how these were the ones that touched my heart. These are the ones I will share with you tonight. 

When I look at Eliza's expression, it confirms to me why I always wanted to have two children. They share something that no other relationship can ever duplicate. They are sisters.  How lucky they are to have each other in their life, their world, now and for the rest of their lives.

{this moment}

{this moment} is a Friday ritual inspired by Soule Mama.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.