(Excuse me while I slip in the back and slide into my seat, ever so quietly. What? I’ve been here all along. Well, maybe not here, but around. Specifically, on Instagram. I never intended to take such a long break, but the very present and persistent ministry that was (is, ever shall be) my family required it. And in the meantime, insta-blogging our randomness filled the space left in a way that felt flexible, fluid and necessarily bite-sized. Not that a return to this space will leave a hole elsewhere – the community that can be cultivated in that space is definitely something I treasure too.

But it’s been months, you say? Well over a year? Yes it has. It has. And I could say I don’t know where the time has gone… but really, it’s gone to him, it’s gone to them. I soak up that baby, I breathe him in, I savour his divinity. I sneak under the big one’s covers and whisper about dreams, and memories and questions of character and choices and and and. I squeeze another tight and still pinch myself daily that he is ours….. that he is on loan to us. I will steal him from the library and the fines be damed. I rejoiced and despaired with another. He is all kinds of wonderful, but also he has been all kinds of pushing soup up a hill while a dog tries to eat it in the middle of a forrest fire, with no hands, blind. It’s also honestly glorious. He really is so interesting and smart and funny and very sweet, and I know sometimes I missed those moments in amongst the exhaustion of ‘I see you’re frustrated, I know it’s hard, but you can’t pinch your brother.’ But I tried I tried and I try. And suddenly that boy is something new. Or, the same, but slightly to the left. With different things amplified, others softened. They’re all going throughout their own refining and amplifying and softening and discarding. We all are. As a family. As a pair. As our selves. Of course, there really is too much to catch up on…

Summer and Autumn and Winter and Spring have rolled on and oh my, hello Summer and Autumn again. So, before they are distant memories, I offer up these smatterings of images for the digital baby books. Grandparents, family, friends, and fellow spirits, thank you for love and support and for following along. xx)










A portrait of my children, some weeks, in 2016.


Arlo: Yes, he is every bit as old as he looks. Almost eighteen months and today he learned to jump. Off the couch. He thinks he’s hilarious. (He is.)

Flynn: Day six of eyepatches. His beautiful attitude makes all the difference.

Wyatt: S c i e n t i s t

Harry: So big. So small.  


Recently, the following exchange, approximately:

Wyatt: How do you get a job?

Me: Well, there a few different ways, depending on the job –

Wyatt: How do you become a scientist?

Me: Well(!), first of all you need to study well in school, in science and maths –

Wyatt: Maths?

Me: Yes, maths is a big part of science. So, from there you can go on to study science at University, but it depends what kind of science you’re interested in, what kind of scientist you want to be, there’s –

Wyatt: OH! A mad scientist.


So this weekend, after achieving a goal he’d been trying to reach for a few months, Wyatt was rewarded with the tools to make his own volcano. Plastered, painted, and a lego village to decimate – Wyatt (generously letting his eager brothers help!) and Ivan built their volcano, mixed their ingredients for the lava, then raided the kitchen cupboard for more bicarb and vinegar to watch the reaction over and over. Today, dining table volcanoes, tomorrow astrobiologist. Or something. Who knows? The sky isn’t even the limit.

(Linking up with Jodi, from Practising Simplicity).




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