This Piece of Time

Today Emerson turned three.  I had our whole morning planned out.  Starbucks, party supply shopping, Build-a-Bear, Auntie Anne's and a birthday cookie. Emerson had plans to ride an elevator.  He failed to share those plans with me. I was watching him.  My eyes never left his little body as he walked down the rows of shoes at Macy's.  When he ducked into an alcove, I watched until he popped back out and continued down the row.  When he got to the second doorway, I expected the same but he never popped back out.  I went after him thinking he would be hiding in the corner.  He wasn't there.   An elevator door stared back at me.  When the doors opened the revealed an empty shell.  My baby was gone. The next ten minutes might as well have taken three days.  The Macy's managers and security team scrambled over the first and third floors searching for my boy.  I stood helpless in the hallway watching the elevator doors open and close with no sign of my baby.  Finally the

I've mentioned before that my kids have different and distinct love languages.  Despite my intentions to read the book "5 Love Languages" I have not.  I do know the basic premise of the book (thanks to my mother) and can identify the tendencies in both Adam and I and our kids.  Paige made it clear early on that she was a quality time kid.  Sometime last year, we realized that Brooklyn's dependence on us is rooted in a need for service.  We speak to her through our acts of service.  Last week, it dawned on me that Emerson is a physical touch kid.  Go figure.  Like father like son.  Every night, Emerson insists that I lay with him in bed while we read.  If I hurry bedtime, he cries for me to "hold him".  In the grocery store, he insists that I carry him while I push the cart (Which is nearly impossible when the cart is full and the aisles are crowded.)  This has lead to many a screaming fit.  He doesn't handle it well either.   The more I think, the more

I have been struggling to write lately.  The desire is there but the subject matter eludes me.  Nothing has driven me to a place of inspiration.  I started watching my calories this week, but who wants to read a whole post about my issues with self-control?!  There have been some major things going on in the lives of those around me, but I don't express myself well when the wounds are raw, so those will have to wait.  It just so happens that a friend posted about the things her kids are teaching her and that inspired me to do the same.  I am currently reading a book by Angela Thomas (who I LOVE) called "52 Things Kids Need from Their Mom".  It has inspired me to take a closer look at my relationship with my kids and to be more intentional with the little things I do everyday.  I plan to write more on that later, but this new awareness has only helped me pinpoint the ways my kids are teaching me. At almost eight years old, Paige is teaching me how to parent at a new le