I read somewhere last week that the days are long, but the years are short; so I guess the point was to appreciate the moments and the mess. For the life of me I can not remember who said it, but I'm hanging on to that life line. The truth is I had a rhythm with the first three kids, or at least I think I did, but life AFTER #4 ain't easy. I can't find my rhythm, and this new one [the rhythm] is altogether different.
Baby Zoey is absolutely the best gift that God could've given us. She's lovely and she's cutting her first tooth. She's not crawling, but is trying to walk. She's grabbing at everything that comes into view, and her smile just lights up the room.
AFTER Zoey, Mama is needing much grace, for the things out of place, and the dinner that's just a tad late, for the laundry that's not done and for the rest that's half done. Life AFTER Zoey is all sugar and spice, with some mess mixed in, and though I'm tired, I keep telling myself this - - -"The days are long, but the years are short. The days are long, but the years are short . . ."
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