Today is June's birthday--my baby is three and I think I'm in a bit of shock. One year felt reasonable, two years felt normal, but three--three means I'm firmly in the midst of raising children, not babies, and it's a strange sensation, crossing this threshold. I haven't been writing much because we took a family trip to Iowa (two pictures from our journey above, more to come) and I've been mentally prepping for both June's birthday and Edie's entering kindergarten, another milestone.
This summer has been a whirlwind; I feel like it barely happened and now it's almost over. I'm ready for the girls to be back in school, to get into a normal routine again, but I'm also obviously quite nostalgic today. We happened to go to a movie this afternoon (Ponyo, June's first) in Montclair, which is where June was born, and we drove part of the same route. The weather was exactly the same, mild and rainy and I kept thinking about how around the same time on the same route three years ago I was in heavy labor, turned backward in my seat, gripping the headrest.
There's so much I could say about June's birth, about how transformative it was, and about who she is today: how she makes me smile every time I look at her beautiful face, how much I love having her as my daughter, how it feels to watch her play with her big sister. But tonight it's late, the house is a disaster and I have to go clean up in preparation for her birthday party tomorrow (small, sans goodie bags, a laid-back affair with some good friends and family), so I'll have to save my thoughts for later.
I love you June Lindhardt Worrell.