Stopping Time

My funny, silly, sweet baby girls:

You were sitting at the kitchen counter today eating breakfast. In princess dresses, wearing plastic princess shoes and tiaras. Talking 'princess talk,' which for some reason includes you raising your eyebrows and pursing your lips and talking with something akin to an English accent.

You were placing your breakfast orders with Grandma. One waffle with nothing butter and a side of strawberries for Ella. An Oswald pancake (that's a pancake in the shape of Oswald the octopus from one of your favorite cartoons) for Kate. With a side of blueberries.

As I looked over at you two...just a 'normal' morning at the Schumacher house...it happened. One of those moments where I lose my breath for just a moment. Struck by how lucky I am to be your mommy. Struck by how just yesterday you were two little tiny peanuts who used jibber jabber instead of using big words and speaking with an English accent. And while I know it's probably not possible to really 'savor every single moment' of my time with you...in moments like that one, I find myself taking a mental picture and hoping that I never forget the simple beauty of the thousands of moments like it that I get to spend with you.

Later in the day, Grandma took you to the movies and I stayed home and cleaned this ridiculously messy house, which looks like a bunch of crazy people ran through it and put absolutely everything in a different place than where it belongs. (Yes, those crazy people would be YOU, my baby girls.)

I went through your drawers and made piles of the clothes you're so quickly outgrowing. I went through the piles of artwork and school projects I'd saved throughout the year, paining over which ones to throw out (I have to keep reminding myself that I really can't possibly keep them all); saving most in plastic tubs that I try to wedge underneath Ella's bed.

I washed your clothes, and Grandma scooped up all your little dresses...because your Grandma LOVES nothing more than to iron little girls' dresses.

All the while, the two of you played dolls and princesses...Kate crawling into Baby Case's crib to put her Bitty Baby to sleep. Ella creating her own imaginary world of who-knows-what in the playroom.

A few hours later and sleepy Kate merged into very, very crabby Kate. Sassing Grandma and sassing me until I lost my temper and spanked her on the bottom twice, before wrestling her down for a nap.

Kate, you've long since fallen asleep (Grandma snuck in your room and sang you to sleep while I was downstairs.) And although you were being really crabby and really mean, my heart still hurts because I lost my temper. And I am sitting here hoping you wake up soon so I can cuddle you on my lap.

My darling baby girls, every day with you is as ordinary and extraordinary as this one.  Honestly, there's not a single day -- not one single day, ever -- when I don't think about how fast your growing. Not a single day when I don't feel the desire to stop time so I can just linger here with you and your 4-and-5-year-old selves for....well, if not forever, than for a really long time.

This reality that we get to live in together may be filled with days when I have to spend more time than I'd like cleaning the house, or days when I occassionally lose my patience and swat one of your little bums before wrestling you to bed. But for the most part, this life I get to live with you...it's heaven. I don't remember ever being so happy or so content. And it's hard for me to ever imagine a time that I could feel more grateful or fulfilled.

I want to write letters like this to you so many times in a given day. And I write so many to you, and to God, in my mind...in the car, while I'm cleaning, while I'm washing your tiny little clothes or making you peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

I hope some day you read entries like this and know that for every time I took a break from it all to capture my love for you in writing, I've felt that love in my heart a million, trillion times.

I love you my baby girls. I love you.