The shoemaker's children

I'm no shoemaker, but words are my trade and my kids, well, lately they've had no words. No words from me, that is. The kids actually have a lot of words.

Finley continues to beam and trill, "mama."

Avery calls to me with her head cocked, "Anything ok here?" and "What is going on in here, anyway?"

Briar is brimming with pre-school wisdom, "Hoho's elbows are watching," and "Wiggly teeth start coming when you get big."

Sean for his part is another source of bemusement–

"I don't mean to be vain, but I hope I'm a good looking old chick," I said the other night.

He looked at me sweetly, considering my face and then saying, "Me too."

So, I tell you with a brow furrowed with worry that while I craft stories for places like The Sagamore and work on proposals for big companies across the country, my heart aches to be writing about my own story. I'm hoping soon I can sit down and share a good long tear jerker about life with my girls, cause I tell ya, despite the quiet, it's a beautiful, blessed life.