First day of school

I am about to share the obligatory first day of school photos because I am a mom and it is something I said I would do when I signed up for this job.
Plus, like every other mother, I am convinced that my children are, in fact, the most beautiful children ever spawned.
So to deny you these photos would be a gross disservice.
By the way, Ezra went to bed last night a total wreck.
He woke up several times in tears about losing lego pieces and his hurt foot.
Poor baby must have been stressed about starting first grade.
Isn't it funny how kids react when they are stressed or upset?
They lash out or sob hysterically, when really they are just nervous and a little unsettled.
However, once he woke up and had his chocolate Rice Krispies, he was excited and eager to go.
Ryan was fairly nonchalant.
Being a second grader is much more grown up and attending school all day is mundane.
Micah wanted to go to school too until I told him he would have to use the potty to do his business.
He decided to stay home.

^^ Ryan (age 7) starting 2nd Grade, and Ezra (6) starting 1st Grade. ^^

^^ Ezzy is my social butterfly. He came home today talking of all the adventures he had with his best friends?! How he had time to not only establish intimate relationships with several members of his class in a single day, but also create memories with said friends is beyond me. ^^  

^^ See what I mean? Second grade has only just begun and we already have swagger. Somewhere between the floral combat boots and the friendship bracelets, my baby turned into a real grown-up girl. ^^ 

On an entirely unrelated note, I was organizing my filing container today and sifting through a lot of random documents when I ran across a receipt.
The paper was creased and tattered, and parts of it where illegible but what I stumbled upon was a bill of sale for the ring Scott gave to me when he proposed.
It was dated: September 3, 2002.
So exactly 12 years ago today, Scott was downtown Seattle buying me an engagement ring.
He was a young man (23) picking out a pretty significant piece of jewelry, everything ahead of him ... all those possibilities and dreams.
Isn't that a weird thought?
It's like you spend so much time, thought, and energy building a life you assume will unfold over a very long period of time, and then 12 years later, it's over.
I started crying and thought of what he looked like back then.
I ached inside while thinking of all the work we had put into our future, into each other, our family.
And I thought about how I missed being able to steal his socks.
They were really soft, stretchy, and much too big.
Now I am stuck wearing mine.
I thought about how we used to snuggle at night ... for about four or five minutes.
Then we would give each other a little pat and stretch out good and far apart in order to really get comfortable.
I thought about how his presence in my life brought meaning or context to my time.
I understood how I spent my days.
I knew that he went to work/school and I stayed at home taking care of our kids.
I am good at cleaning, and coordinating our family's schedule and needs, grocery shopping, and cooking.
I know how to do those things.
When he was a part of my life, I understood what my role was, what my responsibilities were, and didn't constantly dissect my purpose as a mother and wife.
Now all I want is to be those things, but I also think about having to be the breadwinner, the provider too.
And I think about it all day, every day.
It literally eats me up; all my brain power gets sucked into the same endless loop.
I have decided that is what I envy the most when I look around at friends and family.
The surety that comes with knowing what you should be doing with your time in order to move your family and life forward, where you fit in.
Anyway, it's something I am realizing I will have to navigate alone.
No one can decide for me what direction I need to be headed.
No one is going to call me up offering the perfect solution to all my problems.
I realized that I was praying about my situation and then waiting for an answer to appear in my lap.
But the answer is that I have to make a choice and then throw myself into it.
God has given me a brain and a capable body and plenty of blessings.
I don't believe that he would deny me personal promptings when I ask for help.
But he certainly isn't going to do it for me.
That is ass-backwards.
I am responsible for these three Pittlings and they are relying on me to figure it out.
I have also decided that I am still trying, so that counts for something.
I don't know how this novel got so heavy but I have been slowly coming to the realization that my life will only change when I start changing it, no matter how small the shift.
Sometimes I can be really dense.
And sappy.
I blame it on the first day of school.
I guess it isn't just kids that act out when stressed or unsettled.
Sorry for the rant.
Again.