the caged bird

My boys are not for the faint of heart.  That is a promise.  Try and capture them between four walls and you will find yourself begging for mercy.  Their perpetual motion is dizzying.  It is exhausting in both body and mind.  Sometimes, I will be wholeheartedly honest, I look at other families going about their day -be it the farmers market a family dinner or a trip to the hardware store- and occasionally a sigh of envy will escape my lungs and nose.  I see children just holding the hand of their parent, slowly walking the isles and I think…. well now, that looks so easy.

I know that if my boys were not so chock full of energy then they wouldn’t be my boys.  I know that someday this explosive fireworks shooting out their every pore/ tornado swirling through a china shop type of excitement will be just the thing that brings them success and happiness, but every now and then I get a twinge of, “what happened?” reeling through my veins.

When a day like this has come and gone.  After an evening spent in uncontrollable reflection, the morning promised unrestriction.  I know where these shaken up soda bottles thrive.

Let em run.


Give them a chance to explore.

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Give them sun.  Tell them to smell the grass.  Play with shadows.

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Let them wrestle.




Forget the rest.  Don’t pin yourself against anything else.  They certainly aren’t.


Motherhood is a lesson in love.  It’s a roster for acceptance.  It’s a mental battle to defeat and a cloud to float on.  Its everything and nothing.  It just is.  And sometimes, sometimes, it just isn’t.

But not today.