I was going through my archived pictures the other day. And by archived I mean 24 years of pictures stuffed in shoe boxes waiting to be put in all those Creative Memory scrapbooks I purchased. And I found these…
And I saw the progression of my motherhood right there in front of me
Tyler sitting up straight with his hands on his lap. So serious. Sunglasses on to protect his fragile eyes from the sun because I read somewhere that I needed to do that
Carter barely sitting long enough, his hands beside him ready to bound off the step and scale the nearest tree. To it’s highest point; to my dismay.
Cameron posing extra cute, as he had already learned to do to be noticed, with bruised shins from lack of supervision.
And the shorts; threadbare, faded, and worn.
They looked a little like my heart.
Sometimes mothering feels a little like a worn out pair of jeans
Changed from the wear and tear. Broken in. A little more comfortable than the first day you tried them on. Softer. More forgiving as the years of wear progress. But faded, too. Different than the original.