We are in the middle of the hardest month of the year for me: on the brink of spring, but not quite there yet. Even though we've been blessed with a mild and not too snowy winter, I'm quite pleased thankyouverymuch, and could use some sun to warm up my pale face. Especially now that I'm back at work and don't get to spend as much time outside in daylight like I'm used to. All this, and that little guy who doesn't let me sleep at night, sums it all up: I'm knackered. (Yes, this is a whiny post.) The lack of sleep drives me nuts at the moment. He's usually a good sleeper, but something's up: He's uncomfortable, has a temperature, his gums are swollen. Time to visit the doctor tomorrow to make sure that mean ear infection he had before christmas isn't back.
On the brighter side, the girls are great. My strong, funny, crazy girls.
I had a moment the other day: As I was standing in the kitchen, probably in the midst of doing something, tidying or the like, I stopped to answer a question Ronja had. I looked at them, those three sitting around the table, and I was overwhelmed with a wave of pride and awe. That little gang of beauties are my children! When did that happen?
Just then, I felt so rich.
Weird, isn't it, that although you know something, I mean you are cognitively aware of the fact that you are privileged and lucky, only sometimes does that feeling really sink in. But when it does, it blows me away.
I think I'll just leave it at that, for now, and go to bed. It is, after all, almost eight o'clock.