Beautiful Chaos

Early

 

Someday, I’ll miss this chaos.

 

I’ll miss the pitter patter of little wet feet covered in dirt and blades of grass, jumping up and down on the newly washed floor, running around the house doing the pee-pee dance, screaming “Oh no, it’s a bumbling bee! A bumbling bee! And also, can we have some juice?”

 

Someday, I’ll miss getting hot and bothered in oh-so-totally the wrong way: wrapping them in scarves and hats and mitts and snowsuits inside a cramped hallway, only to learn once they are all dressed that they have to go pee.

 

Someday, I’ll miss the inevitable post-bed time, “I want a glass of water!” and, “There’s something under my bed!”  and, “One more story pleeeeease?”

 

Someday, I’ll miss the grossness of it all: the wiping of little bums and snotty noses; the Puke, Puke, Everywhere Puke, because along with the putrid comes loveliness: the unconditional love of butterfly kisses, of warm, unending hugs; of a small, sticky hand inside mine.

 

Someday, I’ll miss the impossibly early mornings, the insanely late nights, the flu bug the entire family battles. I’ll miss all the things I say all-too-often:  Don’t hit. Don’t shove. Share your toys. Eat your breakfast. Be good now. Do you have to go pee? No dessert until you eat your supper. Brush your teeth. It’s bedtime! No. No. I said No. Because I Said So!

    Someday, I’ll want it all back. The thousands of digital photos and movies won’t do this beautiful chaos any justice. The time is now, and it is fleeting.

 

Someday, I’ll want it all back. The thousands of digital photos and movies won’t do this beautiful chaos any justice. The time is now, and it is fleeting.

 

So when this chaos has disappeared from my life, this chaos I complain about a little every day, I will mourn for it with all my heart.

 

I will mourn for what I had but didn’t always embrace. I will mourn for what has flown away, for what has evolved into something even greater; into something I can only dream about.

 

Someday, I’ll miss this beautiful chaos.

 

from the bestselling Kindle & paperback colour coffee table book LEAP

 

 

Not Such A Tough Mudder

Not Such A Tough Mudder

Little girl got rather muddy playing outside. I mean, mud inside her boots as well as outside, and all over hands and face. “That’s okay,” I say to her at the back door as she’s throwing her clothes in a muddy pile for the laundry. “You’re a kid. Kids are supposed to get dirty,” surprising myself at the sound of patience in my voice. “Oh, thanks!” she says. “So, then, I can do this again tomorrow?”

Taking the LEAP

American writer and poet Jamie Dedes, a former columnist and features writer, reviewed ‘Leap’ today in her Saturday Review series. I’m thrilled with her well-written, informative review (and tickled she’d put Anne Murray, k.d. lang, and Mark Vonnegut in the same sentence as my name) and wanted to share parts of it with my readers here.

“When I think of Canada, the first thing I think of is snow and Mark Vonnegut (The Eden Express, Memoir of Insanity), and voices clear and cool as mountain spring-water, k.d. lang and Anne Murray … and now I think of Heather Grace Stewart, a new-to-me poet, writer/journalist, children’s writer, and photographer,” writes Jamie.

She continues, “In this one collection, Leap, Heather deftly combines lightness and depth. It’s an honest, unpretentious look at life with all its risks and joys. We recommend that you take the Leap. The book is oversized with a paperback cover and illustrated with Heather’s photographs of family – especially her young daughter – and nature scenes. It can be purchased HERE for $9.99 with half the proceeds going to UNICEF’s Gift of Education project.

You can read the whole review and many other great posts over at Jamie Dedes’ site.

Thanks, as always, for reading and taking the leap with me.

'Poetry Rocks' copyright Meg Laufer 2010

Latest ‘Beyond the Picket Fence’ Cartoon Strip

 

“Mommy, please stop singing. I can’t hear the *nice* voices.”

 

The Mommy Monitor

She:  What’s a Baby Monitor?

Me:    It’s something people use to make sure the baby isn’t

getting into any trouble.

She:   We need to get you a Mommy Monitor.

‘Beyond the Picket Fence’–The Mommy Monitor– copyright HGS 2010