Our babysitter.

I used to be a good blogger, or at least a consistent one. I can pinpoint when things started going downhill. We decided to move to Texas in May of 2011 (two years ago?!) and that decision was followed by an absolute whirlwhind of a summer (Europe / Priest Lake / Hilton Head / cross-country move - none of which were documented appropriately). That fall, I was overwhelemed with space and emptiness, mourning the separation from familiar friends and city, and busy adjusting for a few months as we struggled to get settled (it took six). Shortly after, I was pregnant and sick (the decision to space our babies just two years apart was a bit aggressive), and that lasted for months. I think my mom came down two, maybe three times to help, and those endless weeks are still a dark blur of nausea and exhaustion, mixed in with memories of the inside of my toilet bowl (or kitchen sink, or the side of the road, or the sidewalk...). In September, I had a new baby, and with him came a little black cloud that I had to fight to get out of (I love him very much now, but it takes me a few months, and if there is a next time in our future, it will involve antidepressants). Now - I have two little ones, two little humans with whom I feel like I can barely communicate some days - a feeling that, when alone when Mike is traveling (often), can be sort of funny actually. We fumble our way through though, and mostly it works out (the other night, Quinn was protesting going to sleep in his crib and looked at me and said, Mom - let's chat!), but sometimes, I feel like we just all sit here staring at each other trying to make sense of things.

It's May! 2013, and we've been in Texas almost two years. It totally blows my mind. I still feel like I'm fighting to keep my head above water most days, and that I'm busy doing who knows what. But I'm busy! I am. I've been working off of my same to-do list for weeks, and am still convinced that getting just a few things done each day is a major accomplishment. Expectations have been appropriately adjusted, and we're happy. I wouldn't have things any other way, but this phase is one for the record books, I think.

I've said it before, but my point really is that finding Marissa that day at my pediatrician's office (in the waiting room - I was desperate with a two week old infant, and not at all shy) was literally divine intervention. It was one of those events that showed me (yet again) that there is a God who knows me, loves me, and is aware of my needs (one of those needs being a little bit of backup). And He knew I needed some help, especially during those first months when Mike was away often, because we've had far more of those than we ever anticipated. Help arrived in the form of a smart, kind high school senior (with a driver's license!) who only had classes half-day all year and lots of time to babysit in between soccer practices. It's been a happy thing to be able to leave my boys for a few hours a few times a week so that I can breathe, and especially wonderful because she loves my boys. It's mutual. 

She's decided to go to college (on a full ride athletic scholarship) instead of staying to be my permanent part-time babysitter, and I know I'm going to cry when she leaves. Someday, when she's a new mama, she'll get a little glimpse of how much she has meant to our family this year, because I'm almost certain that I could not have made it through without her. We love her. 

(Day one of her senior photos here.)