I looked at those little plaid celebrations, and thought who has the time?? A selfish, ugly heart reaction. As if everything else on my agenda is on par with open heart surgery.
I saw the same friend yesterday. She caught me preparing to stick my foot in my mouth with an I don't have the time - doesn't everyone know I'm in over my head comment.
This morning I broke out the stickers and placed the first one on brother's chest. He was crying. I was stressed about the state of breakfast foods and laundry piles. We snap a few pics with a camera-shy newborn, a crumpled sticker, and a flitting momma. I post them to Facebook to prove that I took them.
Status updated. My breath disappears.
One month is already come and gone. One month of 12 before he's a toddler, shoving chocolate birthday cake at his face and trying to follow his sisters on two feet. I thought Afton's first year was a blur, but Carrick's is lightening, excruciating quickness.
Immediately my schedule clears. Drop the laundry basket on the floor. Scoop my son from his bouncy seat. Cuddle together and reflect on this beautiful month.
All we share is time. What more can I give my sweet boy but myself?
So thank you to a wise friend who gave me a gift to number our days.