Thursday, March 1, 2012

Confessions of a Working Mama.

Dear Ella,

This is your Mama writing. I must admit my faults. Well, I'm going to admit one. This blog has become our milestone record of your life, even though I could be better at it. Try as I might, I am not writing your Ella-isms, milestones and development in that funky little journal next to my bed. You know, the same journal that's collecting copious amounts of dust...the same journal that your Daddy and I wrote in if not daily, then weekly during the four (plus) years we were waiting to meet you.

I should. We should. I have Mama friends who are fantastically religious about doing this daily for their daughters. I applaud them but I am confessing that I. Am. Not. That. Mama.

I also have Mama friends who have achieved scrapbooking genius in preserving photos, mementos and art work. We have been a three-some for two years now. In the last few months, I finally conquered getting all of our China travel photos into two photo albums. I nearly threw a party.

The guilt subsides slightly as I ready myself to order up another hardbound copy of your blog from the last twelve months. You love to look at your life in 'book form'. We love it more.

So, when you're a disgruntled teenage powerhouse, leafing through these Ella At Last books and fuming about what I won't let you do, know this: if we didn't have time or energy to write, it was because we were living, loving and laughing (Let us not forget how much time and energy is consumed in trying to photograph your uncooperative self, as well.). And I pray that even at your young 2 1/2 years, you already feel this.

Love, Mama

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