Just some tidbits..

It's late and I'm tired.  But in lieu of a real honest-to-goodness update blog, I hope a few pictures will suffice.

It's a brave new world at our house.  Corrie's eating oatmeal and, as of yesterday, carrots.  She seems to like this new found culinary variety just fine.  And, of course, she has big sister to show her how real eating is done.

Corrie continues to be enthralled by Calla.  She watches Calla around the room and lights up when big sister gets in her direct line of vision.  More than once I've asked Calla to just "go sit by Corrie" when I needed my hands free and didn't want to hear the "Mom's abandoned me!" crying.  And speaking of crying - let me tell you, that post-Easter egg hunt let-down is a bummer.  After three Easter Egg hunts, Calla thought they would never end.  It was a cruel lesson.

More later... about our garden, wonderful weather and the ongoing adventures of two amazing little girls.  For now, night night to all...

This post wasn't supposed to be.

This was supposed to be a long overdue post about Easter.  Or about Corrie's latest check-up (all good).  Or pictures of our girls from this beautiful spring.  But it isn't.  You'll just have to wait a little longer for all that.

Because see, here's the thing.  We do so much for our children's health and safety.  We get vaccinations, steam vegetables and administer vitamins.  We buckle car seats and set boundaries.  We hug and kiss and scold and yell.  We bribe and bargain.  We teach and tickle and try our best.  Sometimes it's enough.  Sometimes - most times - I fall short.  But then it's a new day and one more chance to try again.

Because see, here's the real thing. Despite the buckling and bargaining, kissing and scolding, there is no magic talisman to protect our children from everything.  The best we can do is try our hardest to protect against the dangers we know about.  And then pray it really is enough.

But sometimes, bad things happen.  This week, a beautiful, bossy, bright little girl we know died in a tragedy that's not mine to tell.  And I ache for her parents - her mother is not quite a friend, but more than acquaintance - her family, her baby sister.  And for this little girl who is no longer.

Tomorrow, like everyday, we will go through the daily parenting routine.  The vitamin, the car seat.  Milk and vegetables, bath and book and bedtime.  But also, I will stand with other moms at the funeral of a little girl too young to attend this mass, much less be the reason for it.  And we will weep.  With sorrow.  In solidarity.  And with more than a little guilt.  Because we will go home to our children and routines.  To hug and kiss, to buckle and bargain and feed and bathe.  And yes, to scold and lose tempers and apologize and then to do it all over again the next day.  To make the same mistakes I made yesterday.  And will make again today.

And God help me if I ever forget what a precious gift that really is.