When I woke up on Wednesday morning, everything had changed. There was frost on the ground and a chill in the air. Ellie's nose and fingers were like tiny icicles when I got her out of her crib.
Fall had arrived.
I usually love fall. It's like a new beginning. I think it stems from my years (and years and years and years!) as a student, and the strange thrill I get from buying new notebooks and pens (which I still do every September. Force of habit!). I love hearing the kids play in the schoolyard behind our house during their recess and lunch breaks, I love wearing my favourite hats and scarves, and I love not having to shave my legs every single day. (Let's just be honest here, shall we?)
But this year fall doesn't feel like a beginning, it feels like an ending.
We had a fantastic summer. Weekly trips to the library and the spray park. Swimming at the rec centre. Playing in the sprinkler. Hours spent at the playground. Walks to visit the geese at the pond down the street. Picnics at the park.
I'm not ready for it to end.
(And I'm not ready to be cooped up in an 1100 square foot apartment with an energetic three-year-old, a busy baby, and a hyperactive cockapoo-poo for the next five months!)
This year fall represents change.
Adjusting to being a part-time work-at-home mom.
Coping with family health struggles.
And trying to be positive - even though anyone who knows me at all knows that I hate change.