I didn't realize it, but last month my 2 year blogging anniversary quietly came and went. It's a big milestone in a lot of ways. It's big because I stuck with it. I kept writing and posting even when it made me uneasy and even when I felt like no one cared and even when I doubted my own boys would care about my effort to chronicle their lives and my love.
And because I've stuck with it for 2 years I get to see how much I've changed. One of my favorite ways I've changed is as a photographer. I love looking at my older photos and cringing at my creative eye trying so hard to capture something. I think as I've become a more experienced photographer my creative eye has relaxed a bit, I let capturing happen more naturally, with less editing and processing, and I love the photos I end up with.
I've changed a lot as a writer too. I write a lot more often now, a lot of things that never get posted anywhere but are written simply for the sake of writing. And I like that too.
When I started blogging I placed a large emphasis on little victories, so much emphasis that the phrase ended up in my blog title. That part has changed a lot too. I still believe in little victories, I still think the best part of life is recognizing the tiny bits of every day that may be small and seemingly unimportant, but are actually mighty and victorious.
Like a first step after countless tumbles, a haircut without crying, conquering the big boy slide at the park, a birthday cake that wasn't a literal flop. All of these tiny things matter, simply because they happened.
The part that has changed in two years is how much easier it is now to let these sweet moments slip by. Raising three boys isn't easy, and what is easy is sweeping these little victories under the rug during a day that is too chaotic, too busy, too rushed. So a few days ago when I realized I had been on this blogging journey for 2 years, my little victory for the day was simply recognizing a little victory for that day.
For a few days last week I only had two thirds of my children. Bub got to spend a few days with his cousins and his giddiness was completely uncontainable. He loved his solo time away, and as achy as it made me loosen my grip and let him go, the smiles and memories and giggles that he made were totally worth it. Plus, Teebs and I got a special chance to bond.
We spent Friday morning being bustle-y and trying and failing to run errands because running errands with a newborn is like playing Russian roulette. Exasperated we went for a walk instead. We went to the park and things started slowing down when Teebs and I decided all we really wanted to do was stand on the bridge over the lake. And blow dandelions and make wishes.
And when Teebs ruthlessly begged "Can I touch the water? Can I? Can I? Can I touch it?" I calmly said "yes" and watched while he shivered, a little bit shocked, at the sharp coldness of the lake water on his fingertips.
I stood back and watched him explore the water and his own courage, and I watched him come up with his own boundaries. I gasped a little bit when he wobbled and looked for a moment like he was going to fall in. But he didn't, and eventually came running back to me, and we finished our walk.
Later we were driving, this time to a playground to burn off the rest of our energy before nap time, and after minutes of silence he sweetly from the backseat stated "I'm having fun." It was said as a fact, a bold, confident fact. I'm having fun. I melted a little bit and told him "me too...me too."
It's easy for any of the boys to reply a rehearsed "yes" when I prod "are you having fun? are you having fun?" But for him to volunteer such a sweet phrase was so nice to hear.
On Friday, Teebs had fun. Little victory: completed.
Read more from Jessica at bubandteebs.com