Late Bloomers

So, I'm reading a book written in the 1800s, and in it, the author refers to a girl of 40 who's "bloom has vanished."  I seriously had to put the book down, stare in the mirror, and then think about it for a day.  I'm pushing 40- has my bloom vanished?  And what does that even mean? I called my sister Carolyn and she assured me that yes, my bloom had most definitely vanished.  Well, there it is.

Elias happened to ask me that night if I liked myself better as a baby, a teenager, or an adult. I said as an adult, and he agreed.  When I asked him why, he answered that it was because I lost all those freckles and my hair went straight.  Brutal honesty.  Maybe I never had bloom.

But I really do like life better as an adult.  I had a friend say after she got married that she felt more comfortable in her own skin, and that is a very good way to describe it.  Although, I won't lie.  The other day we saw our cute photographer in the store and rather than say hi, we ducked our heads and ran, hopefully undetected. But that's only because lately, we look like this:

It's the best we could do (Christmas card photos might just be a thing of the past).  I didn't want to burst that (nonexistent) bubble.  She's only ever seen us at our finest.  And by finest, I mean dressed up, hair mostly done, and begging our kids to please get their fingers out of their noses.

This might be our new look for awhile.  Thank goodness for photoshop.  But despite all of the craziness, if I had to sum up what it feels like to push that barrier and enter into the realm of five children, I would say... relief.  Logistically, you just throw one more into the mix and keep on going, but now I can finally stop looking around for my missing child. a feeling that has been plaguing me since Caden was a tiny baby.  Maybe I haven't lost my bloom as much as finally found it.