It's no secret that in the last year I've become a contender some sort of 'World's Lamest Blogger' contest. But I just cleaned my desk, and so my desk is calling to me. And it's not saying mean things like, "Clean me and maybe then you'll find your ipod!" or "This pile of junk from twelve purse cleanings could suffocate a mouse!"
All four boys are so adorable, that I really would like to just decorate with gallery-wraps of our kids. I read something recently that said your kids should be greeted by photos of themselves smiling with other family members, in their bedrooms at the very least, but other places too.
We recently (okay, already three months ago now) had family portraits taken by Mark LaMoreaux, and my favorite kid shot, shows Kyle distraught, Sean startled, and Deacon and Bryce beaming. Bryce's face is blocked by the way he's holding Sean up high. Super cute. We got individual photos of each boys, and I just got around to framing those photos, and tonight during dinner, Kyle stopped eating and pointed at Sean's picture, "Look! That's so cute!!!"
I regret not blogging their little lives, but I'm comforted knowing that this stuff is the just the beginning, that things are getting bigger for them, and me having clothes ready for tomorrow really is more necessary than documenting today. But also, the story God is writing about each of them--beyond the funny things they say that I hope I'll always remember, will culminate in lives well lived. Muscles and scars. Perfect white teeth, yellowed and chipped, missing and replaced with a good story.
So I look at this photo, and remember the day it was taken. The day Grandma Greta and Papa Glen joined us to celebrate Kyle's fourth birthday. The day we sang hymns with them outside, surrounded by rolling fields, and fresh summer air. A day that was one of many simple, sweet memories, that in time I might forget because as it's papered over with new milestones, so rich as to make this one a small morsel of goodness. A drop in the bucket of motherhood joy.
All four boys are so adorable, that I really would like to just decorate with gallery-wraps of our kids. I read something recently that said your kids should be greeted by photos of themselves smiling with other family members, in their bedrooms at the very least, but other places too.
We recently (okay, already three months ago now) had family portraits taken by Mark LaMoreaux, and my favorite kid shot, shows Kyle distraught, Sean startled, and Deacon and Bryce beaming. Bryce's face is blocked by the way he's holding Sean up high. Super cute. We got individual photos of each boys, and I just got around to framing those photos, and tonight during dinner, Kyle stopped eating and pointed at Sean's picture, "Look! That's so cute!!!"
I regret not blogging their little lives, but I'm comforted knowing that this stuff is the just the beginning, that things are getting bigger for them, and me having clothes ready for tomorrow really is more necessary than documenting today. But also, the story God is writing about each of them--beyond the funny things they say that I hope I'll always remember, will culminate in lives well lived. Muscles and scars. Perfect white teeth, yellowed and chipped, missing and replaced with a good story.
So I look at this photo, and remember the day it was taken. The day Grandma Greta and Papa Glen joined us to celebrate Kyle's fourth birthday. The day we sang hymns with them outside, surrounded by rolling fields, and fresh summer air. A day that was one of many simple, sweet memories, that in time I might forget because as it's papered over with new milestones, so rich as to make this one a small morsel of goodness. A drop in the bucket of motherhood joy.
I LOVE this picture!
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