Thoughts From the Front Lines

I'm the woman people make fun of: you know, the pregnant barefoot one in the kitchen. Except I wear shoes. Too much going barefoot hurts my feet.

My husband and I got a bit of a late start but after five years we have a growing gaggle of crumb crunchers keeping us in a whirl of pigtails, diapers, bedtime stories and moments that make you go "huh?" Our fourth child is due in November just before our sixth wedding anniversary and Ben - my wonderful husband @ironshield - is quietly hoping for a re-balancing of the high female-to-male ratio currently dominating our household. I'm not completely sure we produce the boy variety of baby. It's a good thing we do happen to have wonderful girls.

Today I'm content with writing short thoughts which I can spend time distilling down to their point while I'm doing other things. Most of my energy has to be spent on shaping my little people into the beautiful, civilized, strong-charactered women they were meant to be and keeping them fed, clean and clothed in the process. My job is the training and preservation of the next generation; if you want to get poetic, this career keeps civilization alive in the face of encroaching chaos. Mothers have been on the front lines of this battle since time began, so it's a little like being handed the flag in the middle of a fight and being told, "Better not drop this or everyone behind you will scatter and we'll lose everything."

Holding this position - wife, mom, hearthkeeper - generally gives people a good observational vantage point, if not a very original one. There's a lot to think about beyond Barney and peanut butter sandwiches. Not that Barney is actually taking up any of my brain space. In a stroke of good news for my sanity, we have no TV. This has nothing to do with the number of our children, so now you don't need to make that joke if you were thinking about it.

Good to join you all. Steem on! I think I'm going to go fold those socks.