The dance ...

The other day I got mail. A free sample of a diaper - size N. It was a very little thing, but it had a picture with it - of a mother kissing a little newborn's head. Then it hit me. In not too long we are going to be bringing home a new person to our house. A person. Welcoming a new baby into the house is not just an event, but a life change. Don't get me wrong. I've realized this before. I think I've just been caught up in the "to do list" of getting ready to bring home a new life. I've been trying to get our house organized, and the boys prepared; I've been reviewing relaxing and the birth process so that I'm prepared ... and in it all I somehow forgot about the nuzzle of a newborn and the smell of baby hair ... the feel of soft wrinkled skin ... the learning and discovering a new personality and gifts and the joy that a fresh new life brings. I can get caught up in the wonder of this - and I want to.
But then ... the list strikes again. In order to bring this little life home, we've got to have a place to put her, right? So that means finishing Evan's dresser so his things can be moved from the change table and her things can be put in. That means we need to decide on a name ... and get some baby laundry soap ... and ... the list.
I suppose it's a balance, huh? Every mom has to do this dance, right? Laundry and kisses? Peanut butter sandwiches in the igloo tent and grocery shopping? Riding bikes and making supper? Going to the library and vacuuming? Being sentimental and practical? ...