|Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart ~ Kahlil Gibran|
House check: Feed the dog, lock the doors, put two pairs of tiny shoes and some Peach Snapple into my bag, change out of my sweatpants and bloody cami, and put my hair into a greasy ponytail. I just needed to stop my hands from shaking. All the while I was thinking, "This is entirely cool. It's fine. Lila fell off the bed, I was right there folding laundry, there's blood everywhere, and all of this is so amazingly normal. Just. Normal."
No part of parenting is normal.
I'm sitting in bed right now at 10:56pm with three other people. Aside from a very fun evening in college 497 years ago (all females, and all PG-13, tops), four in bed is not very normal for me. And I'm not into attachment parenting, either. But my baby girl got stitches, my sweet boy felt guilty (and now has a 102+ fever), and my lovely husband, who was on an extremely important call, dropped everything the very second I said, "We need to go to the hospital." I love these people. Even the gorgeous, canine, non-human who has been licking my feet and kissing Lila's neck and booty at every chance since bunny girl smacked her head and had to get stitches.
I miss confidence. I wish I still had it. But it's gone. It's been replaced with snoring, bleeding reminders that I'm no longer safe. My love exists no longer in a painting or a place, but in flesh. Beautiful, gorgeous bodies who make my heart skip and my hands shake...
Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear ~ Ambrose Redmoon