Dwelling on Tutus


My daughter Wren grinned squinty eyes as we sang happy birthday this morning, then cheered us into an encore as if she knew something about the world revolving around two year olds.  I won’t say the same old things, you know, about how time flies and kids grow fast, and how a thousand years are like a day in the life of a mother, but, oh what a glutton Time is, gobbling up our words and moments without so much as a backwards glance or pause.   It is one thing you can count on in life, I knew this when I signed up, this relentless rolling on.  This onward and always forward.  Maybe it didn’t weigh as much before I was Mother, or maybe I didn’t yet know how to turn my head to see what was behind, but now I know some things.  I know we are meant to come into the world naked and confused, then crawl, walk, run, and never return to the beginning without absolutely changing.

I also know what it means to dwell.

Right now I dwell on the curls, finally appearing, spiraling red.  I take a picture because they will change and will never be what they are at this exact moment.  Noticed.  New.  imageI dwell on her easy chatter and hope I can remember what lightheartedness sounds like, years from now, when hearts can break and mother’s kisses no longer cover a multitude of sins.  I dwell on the ridiculous headbands and tutus and little sparkly shoes that she can’t wear anymore, that had such a short time with her.  Unlucky shoes.  I dwell on a moment, not to slow time, a futile endeavor, but to remember that these things are the reason that time ticks on.  Time is an endless giver of curls and chatter and tutus.
She knows that if she turns her head while she is fast moving forward, she will fall.  She probably won’t learn how to look back, even as time urges forward, until those first curls appear on the head of her little squinty smiling redhead.  But then, that is a skill especially perfected by Mother. The looking back without falling.  So, I’ll keep dwelling on the moments that catch me off guard and land in the silent space between the ticks of the clock.  If I can’t slow down the clock, I can at least live in the moment.


  1. What sweet little red-haired curls for Wren — especially after so many Pounds’ boys in the family!
    Your summary in the last sentence is so true to live in the moment and deeply cherish them.

  2. Tonight I am dwelling on the baby in my arms that is no longer a baby, he’s now a toddler and as I pass out of 1 year and into another there will be so many other moments to hold onto and dwell on. Thanks Christin!

  3. I am happily dwelling on hearing Ba Ba Black Sheep 500 times a day, yogurt being the one and only food in the world, and my two year old saying “I SOOOOOO pretty”.

    Dwell on Mama! 🙂

  4. Not many of us “mothers” can put in to words the way time flies in our life but we all wonder where it went when it is gone. We try to capture those moments in photos and when we become “grandmothers” we try to remember those times. I love that your able to articulate those feelings because it touches us as we read it and more than that, your children will be able to read your thoughts even when you don’t remember them years from now.


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