Happy Monday! I am excited to start a new week. Even though I’m sleep deprived and still sorting through how I am going to conquer my to-do list this week, I am looking forward to what Spring has to offer. Easter always marks a time of new beginnings and I am feeling completely inspired in my writing life as of late. I have several exciting work projects on the horizon and three features just waiting in the queue to be published. Hooray!

During my inadvertent blog-cation, I crafted up several post ideas in my head, survived (and enjoyed) a family trip to Disney World (pictured above), and I put the finishing touches on those features that are going to be published in the coming weeks.

I hope your Easter was as fun-filled as ours was and that you’re settling back into a routine. It’s always nice, isn’t it?

There are a handful of quotes and book passages that I think of often during different life moments. When it comes to mothering, this quote from Anna Quindlen is always in my mind:

"The biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while [mothering]. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less."

Building a writing career while raising a family often has me running in multiple directions. I’m sure I’m not alone. It is in the harried moments—the times I find myself rushing from one thing to the next or even wishing no one in my family actually required food—that I find a sense of calm by thinking of Quindlen’s quote. It helps me find greater perspective and embrace the moment—even if both kids are going crazy, my e-mail is exploding and an editor’s name is popping up on my caller ID. I just take a deep breath, look at my kiddos and remind myself that one day I will wish I could remember the details of our days.

Then I pull my iPhone out of my pocket and snap a picture. I know the images that burn so bright in my mind today will fade with time and I want to do everything I can to help remember these precious moments—even if it is with an imperfect iPhone photo. 

Packing peanuts:: Well—at least one of us is enjoying them.

Reading:: I picked up a novel for the first time in a long time and it is making me remember why I love the written word.

Popcorn:: The hubby and I have been devouring a bowl every night—with butter. Now if I could just figure out why my jeans are a little snug…

Thoughts of Spring:: Daffodils, crocuses and tulips are starting to peak through the soil in our yard assuring us Spring is on its way.

A new Sleep Number bed:: When you only get five hours of sleep a night (in 2.5-hour blocks) they better be good! Right now my magic number appears to be 35.

The weekend:: We are in dire need of some weekending around here. This one appears to include a mother-son movie date, cookie baking and (unfortunately) piles of laundry. Oh, and some sweeping (see related entry above on packing peanuts). 

What are your current simple joys? Please share! 

It has been about four years since I’ve traveled without my kids, so heading to Florida last month was bittersweet. I was sad to leave my little family behind, especially since it is the first time I’d been away from Miss Madelyn and only the third time I’d been away from my little guy. On the plus side, it was a nice change of pace to only have to worry about myself. Here are a few things I realized from traveling alone again.

Security is a breeze without kids. I normally have milk, bags of toys, snacks, lollipops and at least three coloring books with me. That is in addition to my laptop, changes of clothes, car seats, a stroller, diapers, wipes and my own reading material (because even though I know I will never have time to read for pleasure, I hold out hope and bring something along anyway). That is a long way of saying I am THAT person—the one you try not to get behind in the security line. This time, I just had to whip out my laptop and slip off my shoes (and no one else’s). I did have to go through the full-body scanner at the airport, which I really don’t like, but then again, after nursing Madelyn for the past nine months, I’ve probably shown more inadvertently when my little lady flipped off my nursing cover.

The lavatories on airplanes suddenly seemed larger. The last time I flew I navigated the lavatory with Evan by my side and Madelyn strapped on my front in the Baby Bjorn. It was tight. Really tight.  

The odds of getting upgraded to first class are much greater when traveling solo. Somehow I found myself in first class on the first leg of my trip. That definitely would not have happened with a preschooler and infant in tow. I’m not quite sure how it happened and, even as I was sipping my pre-takeoff Diet Coke, I kept expecting someone to direct me back to coach. No one did and I loved every minute of my first-class adventure. Unfortunately I was back in coach with the masses on my way home, but it was nice while it lasted.

Looking out the window was not nearly as much fun. As I looked down on the clouds, I suddenly longed for my little guy to be sitting on my lap. His little face would have lit up when he realized we were above the clouds. He would have asked questions and soaked it all in. As we neared the ground, he would have pointed out the houses, trees and swimming pools that all look so pristine from the air. I love seeing the world through his eyes and missed having him with me. Luckily, we’re heading back next month for a family vacation and I can’t wait to see my guy’s reaction when he gets to meet Mickey in person and check out the superheroes at Universal Studios. 

My Dear Sweet Evan,

Today you are four. This is a very important day for you—one you’ve been talking about for at least six months. You know, as do I, that four year olds are big kids. You welcome that fact, while I resist it. I know that you are meant to grow and change, but the time is going by so much faster than I could have imagined.

It has been said that the days are long but the years are short, and it is true.  It seems like just yesterday you surprised me by arriving five weeks ahead of schedule.

You’ve been surprising me ever since. When I look back at the pictures from our first few days together, I think about all that I’ve learned since then. I had no way of knowing how much you’d love Oreos (pronounced eeerios), Tic Tacs or superheroes. I would never have guessed that you’d fall in love with hockey and turn the rest of us into fans right along with you.

I didn’t know how much time we’d spend dancing in the kitchen or negotiating over bedtime.

You adore mornings and wake up treating each day like the gift it really is. You rise before dawn each day and find your way into our room asking if it is morning time. 

I know I am going to forget so much about these early years. I’m grateful to have written notes and digital reminders of the things I adore about you. I love that you blow me kisses from across the table and that you fall asleep while we read bedtime stories. You can only drink milk if you have your special bear, which is so tattered and worn. You love Band-aids and request them for every bump and scratch. They make you feel better, so I oblige. In all honestly, I give in to most of your requests because in the grand scheme of things, they are really quite small but mean the world to you right now. 

When you were a baby, I had a hard time seeing the little boy you’d become. Just like right now I can’t picture you as your eight-year-old self or, gasp, the "growb up" you are so eager to become.

I love watching you grow. I love the ways you surprise me. You’ve made me love, laugh, worry and think more than I could have ever imagined.  Thank you for making me a mama and for being such a joy.  

Love you,

Mommy 

Yeah! Monday again. I love Mondays because they get me back in a routine after the weekend free-for-alls we tend to have around our house. Do you keep a schedule on the weekends? I would like to, but it is impossible. This weekend was especially busy as we celebrated my little guy turning four. It involved lots of baking, lots of noise and a REAL bike with a bell (thank you, thank you, thank you Grandma Betty and Papa Stu for giving Evan a bike for his birthday).

Between a hectic work schedule and birthday prep, I’m still recovering. I always think of things I plan to do "when things slow down," but it seems like they never do. All in all, I think that is a good thing. Life is meant to be lived. I prefer to pack in as much as I can, even if it means I’m a few weeks behind on those blog posts I’ve been carefully crafting in my head. They make it up here sooner or later! 

My boy takes his jobs in this household very seriously. Especially when they involve chocolate, Oreos and ice cream.

See what I mean?