Weekends go too fast.
I'm gonna say that again: Weekends go too fast.
Also babies. Babies grow up too fast. So fast it kinda hurts.
We arrived to church on time today- so on time that we were able to snag a booth and not the very back row of the overflow- and, forty-five minutes in, Andrew took Henry out screaming for the third time and Max squealed "My Daddy!!!!!!" and went running after them as soon as he realized he had been left behind- which, of course, meant that I was left behind in a pew full of scattered toys and scriptures and, in less than five seconds, I threw everything into my bag as I heard a huge wooden door slam behind my child as I ran up the aisle to hunt him down- and yes, I totally ran. Then, when we got into the foyer and Max realized that he was going to be put in the corner for being naughty, he held his head super high and proud... high and proud, at least, until he realized that sitting in the foyer meant no toys, so he promptly tried to run back into the chapel which was a whole other debacle by itself.
Henry crawled around laughing the entire time.
Speaking of, Henry is super goofy and I know that one of my biggest regrets in my life will be that I was too spent to sit back at the end of the day and write about all the funny things he did the first year of his life. Today, he wore a green bow tie to church and sported shoes for the first time and he crawled into the building's kitchen and pulled down a stack of bowls down onto the floor before I had even turned my back.
Speaking of, when I was nine years old, we were in a new ward in a building that was under construction and my Primary class was in the kitchen. The shoes I had on were slippery and, when I walked into the kitchen in front of a whole bunch of nine and ten year olds I had never met, I slipped and fell flat on my face, spread eagle on my stomach, totally frozen with embarrassment and so red-faced my lips blended in with my cheeks. I was mortified. But! Sometimes you just fall on your face, y'know?
Also? If you're ready for another cliche- there are never enough hours in the day.
Because really! There really, really aren't and my babies are growing up too fast while I'm busy cleaning the kitchen and editing photographs and staying up so late that I'm cross-eyed as I walk into my bathroom and mistake Henry's toothbrush for my own. Annnnnd that's a post.