Today was a hard day. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of snotty noses, coughs that never end, and diapers that flood my garbage. I saw Maggie with her half wistful frown desperately needing me. All of me. I felt torn. I hate that feeling. She has had a month of cabin fever, and in this world of crazies, I just don’t let her outside to ride her bike care-free like when I was a kid. No playing in the woods or fort building. No running up the tracks to Clark’s Country Store for a root beer and candy. No staying out till dark, coming in filthy from an imaginative day full of dirt and creativity. She is watched. All of the time. I wonder often what this is doing to our children. How do we let them grow into who they create for themselves to be? Do we move to a more secluded area where cars are fewer and people don’t speed in children-filled neighborhoods? Do I continue to be a park parent, so that she can enjoy outdoors under careful supervison? I have a hard time finding balance. 

I gave Samuel to Scott after dinner and spent quality time with Mag, helping her with her new scrapbook. It was fun, and carefree and perfect. She got ALL of me, even if it was just for a little while. 

These are my thoughts as I lay me down to sleep.