The ordinary moments can be the most magical

A blogger whom I love (and happened to meet randomly at a knitting convention shortly before we both had our first babies) has been joining in this linky from Mummy Daddy Me.  She has been posting the most adorable photos and stories and I have been enjoying looking at all the different little everyday ordinary things that inspire her and the others who've been linking up.  Capturing those little moments can be so difficult and yet they are the true sweet spots in a tough day, the moments that remind you why you do all this and why you had kids and they are also the moments that fade away before you even realise it.  I totally get why this linky is popular. 

I think having my second baby has made me realise how quickly the memories fade.  The number of times I find myself thinking "Baby Bird never did X" and yet I know she probably did. It is probably the secret if why people are able to have more than one kid - some of the memories need to be dulled in order for you to voluntarily endure them again - but it is a shame when you realise all these happy little moments have disappeared from your grasp.

I hadn't felt brave enough to share my own moments, fearing that the quality of my pictures really isn't up to it.  But then this happened yesterday:

And I realised that the quality of the picture is neither here nor there.  This moment is special and it is worth sharing.  This is the moment that I found my two children playing together, by themselves, of their own volition for the first time and it is a magical moment for any mother and also for any siblings. It needs to be captured and, even if my photo is a snap taken on my iPhone rather than one of the gorgeous shots the rest of the wonderful photographers who are involved in this project are taking, I hope no-one will mind me including it. Because this is why I had children; to have moments like this,

Because life is short

I have been finding life hard recently. Unspeakably, overwhelmingly hard.  I had tried to blog about this on a number of occasions. I have written literally hundreds of blogposts in my head while breastfeeding  the sweet and perfect baby boy who was responsible for the initial silence at the beginning of February and who, through no fault of his own, is partially responsible for how hard I am finding everything right now.  But for a variety of reasons, none have made it out of my head and onto a screen.

Partly it is because I cannot decide what I want this blog to be - a place to unload and organise my thoughts, a happy place to record the good things and remind me to be hopeful, a place to mark my children's milestones, a place just for crafting and similar activities, away from all the complicated stuff. Partly it is because life seems to be on quicksand at the moment and by the time I find a moment to write, the posts i have been mentally composing no longer seem relevant and I'm not sure what to say instead. Partly it is because I feel conflicted about pretty much everything and am simply not sure at any given moment what I think or feel and what I want to share.

Then tonight I came across a blog that changed everything.  It is a beautiful and heartbreaking blog; a blog that taps into my worst fears and yet a blog that is, despite all the bare and unconcealed heartache, full of joy, hope and courage.  It has reminded me that life is short, sometimes cruelly so, and therefore we need to grab every moment that we can.  We need to squirrel them away and treasure them, in case it turns out there are no more.  It has reminded me that, no matter how hard I am finding it, there are moments of great joy and happiness in each and every day and I don't want to forget those.  It has also made me realise that even the hard bits might be worth recording and treasuring and it has given me a much-needed reality check.  That is not to say that my problems don't count or that I should brush my feelings under the carpet, just that it has reminded me that, no matter how dark things appear to be right now, I am exceptionally lucky and I want to keep hold of that feeling.

And so, finally on the eve of him turning seven months, I present my lovely smiley bundle of joy, as he was the day he was born

and as he is today.  My Mr Man.

And, because she remains at the centre of my universe, even though I don't know how to ensure she understands that her place in my heart is unchanged, my Baby Bird, as she was the day she first met her brother

and as she is now (well, not right now; right now she is poorly and feeling understandably sorry for herself and looking quite peaky so this is her a few days ago).

Both had undergone such changes in the last seven months and already I can feel the memories fading.  I hope to go back and fill in some of the blanks over the coming days and weeks and to make sure that I capture what is happening right now, before I forget.  

Because you never know when it may turn out to be all you have.