This is a box.

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This is a box on which I spent $14.99 on to hold the hundreds of dollars worth of scrapbooking “stuff” I bought at Michael’s last week.  (Note how the items purchased are barely contained by said box.)

This box is full of tiny cards that say things like:  Summer! Family! Friends! Sun! Fun! and sugar and spice and everything nice and If friends were flowers I’d pick you.  It is filled with reams of papers patterned with blue rattles and yellow ducks and hot pink graphic prints. This box holds glittery stickers, fuzzy stickers, weird plastic bubble stickers that look like buttons, and something called washi tape.

This is also not just a box.

Tonight—if the universe is gracious, and the doctors are skilled, and I haven’t used up every lick of my luck in the last 29 months of gestating, then parenting my gorgeous son—I am going to the hospital and giving birth to a second baby: this time, a baby girl.  My days for the foreseeable future will be spent urging a sleepy baby to nurse (or as I like to call it—Nursedammit!), changing one diaper then immediately changing another, heating up fish sticks and wiping up ketchup, and scrubbing spit up out of the couch.  I will likely barely take the time to wash my face properly, make a salad, or kiss my husband as well as he deserves to be kissed (if he gets kissed at all).

So when I lugged the box home from Michael’s last week and opened it up, I immediately texted my sister, claiming insanity and joking about how I was clearly looking for something to do with all of the newfound free time I’d have with two children at home instead of just one.

And that’s when I realized that this is not just a box.  This box is me—standing on the precipice of a major identity shift.  This box is all of the fears I have about quitting my job and starting life as a full-time parent. (Who will I be? How shall I spend my days, weeks, months?  What will I make that matters or lasts?)

Yet this box is also very clearly my joy.  My life is richer at this very minute than I ever dreamed possible.  It seems that every touch, giggle, and gasp is worthy of celebration and preservation.

This box is my gratitude to the universe for the many blessings it has thus far bestowed; and this box is also my shocking and probably unwarranted confidence in blessings yet to come.

Yes, this is a plastic box I bought at Michael’s for $14.99 to hold my delight, my dreams, my wonder, my love.  And please note that it is overflowing…

 

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