Beautiful Life Made Easy: A month in real life pictures

It's been a month. An entire month since I set foot in this space of mine to write. An entire month since I even thought about taking the time to place my photos in this safe spot--this spot where I can always come back to to remember, and to re-live again and again. To be able to remember the good, the hard, the real stuff that is making our life so full, so busy, so exhausting, so hard and so wonderful all in the same breath. Because having 4 little kids at home, including one baby who has unfortunately become quite colicky and who, most nights, won't sleep more than a couple hours at a time, is all of the emotions that you can ever imagine all wrapped up into one beautiful real package that we are calling home right now.

So as I glanced through my photos I decided to just plunk them all down here all at once, in an effort to at least have a month in photos in one space so that I can look back here maybe a year from now when the dust has settled and my sleep deprivation has eased up a bit. I might be able to see more clearly through the fog of that newborn haze and actually more fully appreciate the small things that can sometimes pass us by.

I vowed to take more every day pictures this past month, so our kids could have snapshot memories of this time in their lives--specifically pictures of the small things that happen throughout our days....

like neighbourhood kids playing together, racing together, laughing together.

I've vowed to take my camera out more often on our court as they play outside this year--because one day they'll gasp at how young and little they all once were.

So with the snap of my camera, I hope that they remember the impromptu piano recitals that took place in our playroom on a hot fall afternoon...

and the hours upon hours of biking and playing outside that they do--until the infamous sound of their parents voices calling them to come in for dinner can be heard.

I want our kids to remember the days of soaking in the pool...

and bathing baby dolls in Chloe's bath tub.

I want to remember this pretty red tuft of hair atop of Chloe's little head--just like Sophia once had before she turned blonde...because it's already starting to fall out, so it may not last long.

I want to remember the mounds of shoes found at our door each day as neighbourhood kids run into our house looking for popsicles and snacks--which I love. Because my house is your house.

I want to remember cousins playing with trains in our playroom,

quiet Lego creations...

and messy playroom days where Terry and I can hear a pin drop.

I want to remember the first day of school...

and after school snuggles.

I want to remember the really hard days when I feel like I can barely keep up...when I can barely see straight from lack of sleep, when babies won't stop crying, when kids need everything immediately, when planners need to be signed, piano practising needs to be done, French words need to be practised, Home Reading needs to be done, dinner isn't made, emotions from school are running high and no one wants to go to bed. Because some days, this is just real life.

So when I'm feeling like life is just too much on those days, I tend to try to create a little world of our own at home. I give us all something to look forward to--because in so many ways, happiness comes from the anticipation of something. Not always just the event itself.

So Backwards Day is coming up on Saturday, I told the kids one exhausting morning (as I literally made this up on the spot).

Everything will be backwards, I told them. So we'll have dinner for breakfast, snacks for lunch and breakfast for dinner. This will be AMAZING, I told them as I watched their eyes sparkle with anticipation.

And all of a sudden things felt okay again. Because Backwards Day was coming, and everyone was excited.

*nothing like chicken and peas for breakfast...

(apparently it's thrilling).

I want to remember 2yr olds who pull watermelons from our garden way too soon--and the thrill in her eyes that she had when she proudly announced to all of us that she found it (and I smiled excitedly for her on the outside, but silently cried inside after waiting so anxiously for that little watermelon to ripen to perfection).