Children are like a gas. They expand to fill the space available to them.
I put the baby on a blanket to play in the middle of the recently recently cleared, wide open floor space of the den/school room. The girls were happily playing the nursery. I took a few moments to throw a load of clothes in the washing machine and load the dish washer. When I returned to the den, it looked as though the whole nursery had been moved out into the den to surround the baby!
Boyle's law states that, with constant temperature, if you decrease the volume of a gas, the pressure it exerts will increase proportionately.
I could feel the pressure inside of me increasing as the size of our apartment felt suddenly constricting with the claustrophobic piles of life strewn about in every room. Thankfully God reminded me about my camera, so I grabbed it and, like a balloon, the pressure popped as I started to listen to their playful chatter about which of the baby dolls were twins with Beatrice and which one was going to have a birthday party today.
I'm really trying hard to enjoy whatever moments I can this season to fight back the overwhelm. Dolly birthday parties are way more important than a clear path through the room anyway, right?
I put the baby on a blanket to play in the middle of the recently recently cleared, wide open floor space of the den/school room. The girls were happily playing the nursery. I took a few moments to throw a load of clothes in the washing machine and load the dish washer. When I returned to the den, it looked as though the whole nursery had been moved out into the den to surround the baby!
Boyle's law states that, with constant temperature, if you decrease the volume of a gas, the pressure it exerts will increase proportionately.
I could feel the pressure inside of me increasing as the size of our apartment felt suddenly constricting with the claustrophobic piles of life strewn about in every room. Thankfully God reminded me about my camera, so I grabbed it and, like a balloon, the pressure popped as I started to listen to their playful chatter about which of the baby dolls were twins with Beatrice and which one was going to have a birthday party today.
I'm really trying hard to enjoy whatever moments I can this season to fight back the overwhelm. Dolly birthday parties are way more important than a clear path through the room anyway, right?
(The baby in the middle is the real one, and she seems to love every minute of the mayhem :)
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