Time etc

I often wish I could stop time.  So I could finish weeding the garden.  Or so I could finish sewing the hems on my shorts.  Or so I could finish my manicure with the one thumb painted.

Even the time I do have, like now, during kids' naps, or after they go to bed, isn't really mine.  There are the things that must be done to keep this machine running such as running all the machines: the dishwasher, washer, and dryer (and here, we must pause and remember our cute grandmothers in their scarves tied on top of their heads and how hard they worked without those machines and how easy we have it.  ok.  resuming rant.).    Or both my kids getting up needing to poop, and needing me to "wipe them" during nap time, the first one yelling this request loud enough to wake the other one, (and, perhaps catalyze the other's poo mechanism?).  At least the first is asleep and the second is having just "quiet time with books."  Another common nap time mishap is the coffee boiling over.  I like skim milk in my coffee and so I heat it on the stove, along with its decaf counterpart and often smell it caramelizing on the burner before I've had the opportunity to drink it.  Fun times.

But eventually, I get my coffee and I open this book that people have been reading for around 2000 years, and some parts of it longer...wish I was the scholar I should be to tell you, and that will be my assignment for my next blog, but I have determined to not blog myself any smarter than I currently am or any nicer, if that's possible.  Which it's not.  But anywhoo.  (I like to use over-used phrases when they are so over used that no one uses them anymore...how bout you?)

But back to the subject at hand:  time.  And the passing thereof.

Today, in the van, on a quick Braum's run, where we grab enough groceries to postpone a Walmart trip for a couple of days, Berea says, "We have to eat a lotta food so we can get big and grow up Really Fast!!!"  Heartache.  Heartache for her ...wondering why this little perfection of a life wants to get done with this part, this delicate, this unendingly amusing, this utterly squeezable and kissable and holdable, this well of confidence and glee, this Lack of Conscience or Concern For Others (seems kinda enviable sometimes, you gotta admit)...Why?  Why does she want to be done?

Maybe its because we're always acting like we'll be so proud of her WHEN...
WHEN she's a ballerina...
WHEN she's a doctor...
WHEN she's a vet...
and the same thing is going on with Anderson...replace all the blanks with rock star, artist, construction worker (that last one is his choice ;) )

And maybe she's just tired of not counting, now...

Also, there was Heartache for me.  Twofold heartache.  The guilty kind and the regular old kind.  The guilty kind is the worst.  Too hard to blog about.  But it was there:  "Does she want to hurry up and grow up and get away from me?"  And then the regular old kind that aches to high Heaven at the FACT that these people, we will soon lose.

I guess I should be videoing a lot more.  I take pictures like crazy.  But plenty is lost when a voice isn't involved.

So.  Conclusions.  "My times are in your hands..." has been running through my head since I read it yesterday, out of Psalm 31.  Which is good, because they are slipping through my own.  And I've concluded that I can't wait til I have enough of it to attempt something.  That I have to do it, even though I know I'll run out of time, and not be able to finish...from my manicure to my garden to my human-growing, I just have to do what I can, when I can...and enjoy what all of that is offering me NOW, in its incomplete state.  Ugh.  I hate platitudes.  Peace out, my homies.  I'm falling asleep and need to go reheat some more decaf and milk and read that book I was talking about.

"Don't wait for the night...to fall in on you...there's not enough time...don't wait for the night to fa-all in on you!  There's not enough time!

And if you're troubled
by all the hate
don't look aside
but stare it in the face
and you can love them
like you should
aaaall the people
so misunderstood"

"Not Enough Time" by the lovely Waterdeep, sung by the Lovely Lori Chaffer in my head...

"You talk of hate and war..
be where's your own peace time?
  .....
I know the plans that I have for you...
I know the things that I want for you to do...
I know the plans that I have for you...
And it hurts sometimes...to see you cry..."

and "I know the Plans" by all of the above