Blurred

This morning, while rubbing the sleep from my eyes, half asleep/half awake, mentally collecting the dreams from the night before, I felt myself gazing out the kids’ bedroom window, thinking about how the day will go. After a minute, or maybe fifteen, I realized that I was looking at the window in the kids’ bedroom, not out of it. Felt a little bound by the beauty of this old thick triple-paned window, that lets in the heat of summer and the cold of winter. This piece of glass refracts the light, warbling the rays, creating a fuzzy image of the outside world. It has little imperfections, scratches on the surface, the sash cords need to be replaced, the frame isn’t finished, the paint job is only so-so. But the window, the glass itself is old over 112 years old, and still working, still doing what it was meant to do. Suddenly it just felt so right, so lovely.

The obvious analogy is of the window to our family (and a little to myself too). That window is perfectly imperfect, and completely reflective of our little family. We don’t always do things right. Sometimes, as parents, we feel like we’re just muddling through, treading water, trying to figure out how to manage and learn from our mistakes. Creating this Family this dynamic little piece of history. Sometimes we get lost in the day-to-day of life, thinking about how things could be and what we should do next.  Stumbling over ourselves and our ideas along the way, hitting these little walls (which although small, can feel like mountains). Figuring out how different we are from one another, and how our paths diverge at times, but that we’re still connected, not just through the genes that pull us together, but through the life that we’re creating and building in this little family.

These last few weeks have definitely not gone as planned. There have been tears, great heaving tears of sadness. There has also been raucous, unhinged laughter. There has been quiet solitude, some welcomed, some not. There have been endless hours of whining and a great deal of whinging. There’s been golden moments of sibling love. There’s been comforting, solid love from Big S. There have been kisses and words of love from two little mouths. Every so often, it’s good to get a different perspective, to look at things through the blurred glass, and to see the beauty in all of it (except for the whining, god I hate the whining).

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