Dear Babies of Mine,
I had resolved to try and breathe more (and scream less) through my frustrations.
I had hoped to start living more in the moment and not in the dark cave of my thoughts.
Perhaps I should be more positive, since the clock has not even struck midnight yet and already I'm appologizing for losing my intentions. Because I know I will.
Like so many resolutions prior, I don't expect this one will last too long into the new year. I am, afterall, the same person I was yesterday; the same person I was a year ago. I am the same person I will be tomorrow.
But that isn't really true of either of you.
With Silas changing into a kid more each day; reaching out for toys to activate and strands of hair to pull, I've also watched Annabel change and grow into a little girl.
When he cries in the car she sings to him, or searches for his binky, or plays peek-a-boo.
Often it works to calm him but yesterday nothing helped. He was just too tired and in need of sleep.
With a long road ahead I reached back and took her hand. It was warm.
"Mom. You've got the wrong hand," she said quietly.
"No I don't. I have your hand."
And with that the car fell into a comfortable silence.
It's enough to give me hope that anything is possible. That maybe the intention of wanting to be something else -- something better -- is enough. For now.
Happy New Year, babies.