This old blog pops up into my mind every now and then.
Honestly, sometimes I forget about it entirely. It feels like a lifetime ago that I used this space. When it does bubble-up to the surface I have that warm nostalgic feeling tingle its way around my heart. Those early years of parenting when things were simpler, but not simpler at all. When I was just learning the ropes of having kids and being married. I am thankful for what this space gave me; moments to reflect, space to breathe, time to be Bria.
When I do think back on all of those mornings and afternoons spent clicking away on my laptop, trying to desperately share bits and pieces of myself and my days, I feel like I miss it. I miss looking for the joy or the meaning in my days. I miss writing down my children’s antics and writing about God. I miss seeking out the beauty in mundane days.
I wonder if I should get back at it?
My kids aren’t grown-grown. They haven’t moved-out or moved-on. We are still a young family. Rhys is 12.5 years old now and halfway through Jr. High. His voice is changing and he has some fuzz starting to show on his lips, a feature that I’m not entirely OK with but have little control over. Amelia is almost 11 and is eye-level to me. Her feet have grown bigger than mine, a sign she is fully taking after my husbands height. Little Eli, I’ve just recently realized, is not so little anymore. He’s in school and can’t quite cuddle me properly due to size, although we both still make it work somehow.
So we aren’t all that different, we are just in a new chapter. We are out of diapers and soothers and afternoon napping and fully into school and friends and sports. I am basically a taxi-service now.
I suppose the biggest change to happen in our lives that is noteworthy is that Rhys can babysit. Which is amazing. Seriously amazing.