why?

It has been almost a year since I have written anything here, which reflects some of the busy nature of our lives since last summer (travel, pregnancy, work, a move to a new house, going from one to two children, etc). It has been very full and we have definitely not been bored.  Ryland was born on New Year's Eve of 2014 and I am still without a good night's sleep five months later, yet I am grateful most days.  Extremely grateful. I could recap the last few months since Ryland has entered our family, but it has been mostly a blur of survival, joy and learning.  To summarize him, he is a happy, roly poly, full head of hair little guy who we all love dearly.

Today, I was reminded of why I started writing thoughts about parenting and my children.  I wanted to remember what I was feeling at different points in this journey....and I wanted Elida and Ryland to someday read this and know that I was (and am) thoughtful and a full person and that there were joys and struggles along the way.  They won't remember when they were babies or when they were two, but I can give them a glimpse of that world from my eyes.  Anyway, my conversation that happened today over breakfast with Elida, a now feisty three year old, was definitely worth writing about and one that I want her to read someday.  So, here is how our conversation went this morning...

We are sitting at our kitchen table, which used to be my grandmother's kitchen table on their farm.  It has a couple burnt rings on it from hot dishes from meals my grandma made.  I don't know the story of the rings, but I like looking at them and remembering that so many of my family members before me sat at that table.  This sets the scene as Elida is eating her oatmeal and looks at the rings...

Elida: "What are those rings?"
Me: "They are from burn marks from hot dishes when my grandma had this table."
Elida: "Why?"  (I will skip writing all the whys she asks as it is a constant question)
Me: "Because hot things can burn wood and this table is made of wood."
Elida: "What did you call your grandma?  Was she called Nana?"
Me: "Her name was Fern, but I called her Grandma or Grammie sometimes."
Elida: "I want to call her that.  Can I call her Grammie when I meet her?
Me: "I can tell you about her, but you can't meet her because she's gone."
Elida: "Why? Where did she go?"
Me: "She died before you were born."
Elida: "Where did she go when she died?" (She seriously asked this and she is 3.)
Me: "Well... I don't actually know."  I then try to explain to her the 3 year old version of reincarnation and heaven and other different theories of what happens when we die.  It went horribly. I also start to cry a bit because I miss my two grandmothers so much. Every day.
Elida: (She is looking at me this whole time as I have tears in my eyes).  "I'm feeling a little sad."
Me: "It's okay to feel sad. I feel sad too.  Can you tell me more about your feelings?"
Elida: "I'm feeling kind of sad because I saw that moth on the stairs today."
Me: ...Laughing....  "Yeah, I get that.  Moths can make me feel sad too."

Yep. Life with a three year old goes from deep and thoughtful conversations to talk about bugs.  You just never know what you're going to get.  My challenge most every day is to try and lean into each moment and enjoy what is right in front of me, even if there is a moth on the stairs or rings on a table....