I didn't cry on Mother's Day. Not one tear.
I felt sad. I noticed the missing one.
But I didn't cry.
That feels amazing since every other Mother's Day I have cried all. day. long.
Here we are in the middle of moving, and J found time to MAKE me a Mother's Day gift that was absolutely perfect, and incorporated all of my babies.
Mother's Day is always hard because it's so close to Charlotte's birthday, but looking at that line of photos all day helped somehow.
(Look at Charlotte's rose blooming outside the dining room windows. It's on fire this year, blooms everywhere)
On Mother's Day we packed, and packed, and packed, and then we walked to lunch. We sat outside, and for a while we were the only ones there since we went early on a Sunday, so we chased the kids around a bit to keep them busy, and J jumped out from behind a stairwell and surprised me to pieces.
It was bittersweet - as every day without her is - but the tide seems to have turned a bit this year because it was a little more sweet than bitter.
Two more days until Charlotte's fifth birthday. The kids and I baked a Charlotte cake for Thursday this afternoon. After they made a complete mess of the kitchen they scampered off to the living room to play while I cleaned up. They are the best of friends, which makes my heart sing and ache all at the same time because I want them to have a big sister to play with. Ainsleigh especially. I love my big sisters. Just when I felt the sadness crashing in I heard giggling from the living room. I peeked in to see Bennett blowing raspberries on Ainsleigh's tummy. She laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and he said, "Oh, Ains, is that funny? Do you like that? Isn't this fun??" And there it was again: the bitter edged out by the sweet.
* One of J's goals after we move and get settled is to open an Etsy shop. He came up with this photo idea the night before he gave it to me. His creativity and inventiveness impress me. I can't wait for others to have a chance to own a piece he hand crafted *