The holiday season for me is as busy as the rest of us. I am in the business of documenting families through my photographs and there’s something about the holiday season that makes everyone think, “I need my family documented though photographs.” which makes me very happy, and it makes my schedule very busy. It starts out with a few phone calls and emails and promises of excitement and projects, in the middle of it it’s a crazy whirlwind of deadlines and excitement and appointments and emails and deliveries and reward, and it ends with the very last deliveries, the immense feelings of accomplishment, the heaviness of guilt from neglecting my housework and cooking and play time, (although I try to pencil that in even in my busiest of days) and the overall feeling of never wanting to sit at my computer desk or pick up my camera ever again.
So I am in the latter of the stages right now, and I’ve got to say, I am just so dang busy not being busy.
My day starts with Mr. Miller groggily rolling out of bed to fetch our oldest of kin (I’ve always wanted to use that term, does it fit here?) Then that sweet little three-year-old-girl comes to the side of my bed and awaits her morning lovin’s. From there we head to the kitchen for our daily peach yogurt and oatmeal and I have my coffee and Harlo asks for her coffee (which she’s never had a taste of in her life) but settles for milk with just a pinch of vanilla. We call these our special drinks and we sit and talk about what we should do for the day, and what we did yesterday, and Harlo tells me about her silly dreams and we giggle and chat and sip on our special drinks.
Sometime between 9:30 and 11, the little sleeping beauty of the house awakes and from there it’s squeals and giggles and tears and hair pulling and lovins and babies and barbies and strollers and snacks and lunch time all in between which I try to fit in small chores and house projects where I have 4 tiny helping hands, which actually isn’t nearly as helpful as it sounds.
Before I even know it (okay, that’s a lie) nap time has approached us. Nap time is God’s special way of saying “You did great today, I will give you a small break so you don’t harm your children before the day is done.” and you get to recharge your batteries and forget about how naughty your children are and somehow miss them terribly by the time they wake up.
Of course, my 3 year old gave up napping a handful of months ago so my “free time” is still filled with a request for a snack and a treat and a vitamin and a drink (never at the same time) about every 7 minutes or less. It takes about 30 minutes into my chores or computer/work time to realize that I should give up and play with her.. which I always happily oblige.
And really before I even know it, it’s time for Stella to wake up which is also the same time I need to start dinner which is not a good mix. Not a good mix, at all. So then I start doing a juggling act of sorts of tending to the pots on the stove, giving a snack, stirring my noodles, fixing a toy, preheating the oven, calm a crying baby, add to my sauce, trip over the 8,393 pieces of tupperware that now cover my floors while simultaneously bouncing a baby on my hip. All while approximately 23 negative thoughts cross my mind which I quickly hurry out with remembering how much I love my husband and children and being a wife and mother. 🙂 Then as the crying has reached it’s climax and I barely saved the dinner from burning past the point of edibility, my husband walks through the door just in time to enjoy silent kids who have started on their dinner and a hot plate and happy wife awaiting him. He always misses the dinner chaos by just seconds.. never even knowing what takes place. And every single day I remind God that in my next life, I think I’d like to try out being the dad. Then we laugh and play and tub the girls and jammy them and rock them to sleep and as my baby asks me to sing to her each night, I take back what I previously mentioned to God and tell Him that I’m actually fine with being the mom, after all.
And at 8:17pm I rest my tired old soles for the first time of the day. My house looks like a train has literally driven right through it which makes me smile inside at the wonderful mess we made today while equally cry inside that I have to get out of my chair.
I spend the rest of my night chatting with my husband about our day and giggling about the funny things the girls have said and as tired as I am, I can’t wait to start it again tomorrow. And that is the miracle of motherhood.