Saturday, April 6, 2013



Yesterday, I didn’t take any pictures.


Those days seem especially poignant to me,

because I know how soon they will fade

into the general buzzing of the next day, and the next, and the next.

Another grain of sand in the lopsided sandcastle of my life.


Like this post, yesterday remains untitled. (see? poignant!)




Soon enough, I will forget the warmth of my 2:30 nap bed for two- just me and my baby.

Soon, there were three. 

Then four. 

Finally, briefly and crampedly,  five until we all spilled back out in to the house so I could face the lunch dishes I abandoned. (macaroni)




I will forget the desperate, bursting, gasping feeling that sets in around 5:00, when I turn to Brian and say

“I need your help!  I can’t do any more!”,

the pressure inside made worse by the knowing that he has to go, that he isn’t mine yet. 

The click of the front door behind him.


Then, the relief that comes from belatedly (always belatedly) asking for strength from the One who can help.

The One who is always there and mine.

I am refreshed.  I can push through.



I won’t remember the sound of the great, epic, flood-of-Noah-type rain that pounded our roof at 6:20. 

Calling the children to “Come! Look!” 

Isaac complying, laughing,

Joseph barely looking up from his book. (“Lego: Stop That Heist!”)

I watch it with amusement, knowing that it is currently soaking my poor tired husband

(trudging home to his needy wife).



Then, there he is, and I open the door, ready to offer my sympathies. 

Only to find that yes, he is soaked, but he is also smiling.

And he finds me smiling too.

His shirt sticks to him, water streams from his hat, his brown eyes are twinkling and man alive!-he looks just like high school and it takes me back with a rush.

Those days of dreaming of this life with this man.



He grabs our big boys and dashes with them through the pouring rain (shrieking, barefoot, muddy).

Something the cleaner-of-messes wouldn’t have thought of doing.


And I’m holding the baby in the doorway, watching them laugh, wishing for my camera, but forcing myself to stay.                           

To just look

I watch my dripping husband laughing with our children and I think, suddenly; 

oh!  This is just how I knew he would be!


This is just how I knew we would be.




The dream often lost in the drudgery.


Not bad for a day with no pictures.





This Simple Wife said...

I struggle all. The. Time. With not taking pictures. I have three cameras because I am so addicted to having the ability to take pictures wherever I am (DSLR, point and shoot, and camera phone). It is unbelievably hard to sit and watch, to soak up the event as it is happening instead of grabbing that camera and watching through the view finder. I want to be able to remember this little moment in time in the years to come, but I have to constantly remind myself it will be much different (perhaps better?) if I actually live the moment. Thanks for the post Caitlin!

Maureen said...

THANK YOU so much for sharing that intimate look into a day in your life. I love that you recognize you are indeed Living the Dream! It's not always easy, but it is SUCH a gift and I'm glad you wrote about it in your special gifted way, so that we could experience it even without pictures! Good Choice, Caitlin!!!

Jen said...

I know this moments... these days because I have them.

I also don't have the pictures but I remember them anway because they are the moments where I watch my husband and children and know that I have every thing in the world, I wanted.

Jenners said...

Oh this is lovely. A poem. And being IN the moment and not recording the moment is very very necessary at times.

T Rex Mom said...

You are taking pictures in the form of memories. Just keep remembering them and they will live on forever.

Mom said...

Sweet post, sweet girl. And about doubt he loved that singlet!

Mom said...

errr....I mean Sixlet!!

ter@waaoms said...

it's so weird to see a post on your blog without pictures!!