My plate is full. Not with food. With life. My life, the lives of my children, the life of my business. And I fear the full plate is about to topple and splatter on the floor. Even Bounty won't be able to rectify that mess with only one towel. You don't wipe up the crushed spirit of a child or your own shattered dreams. But if I don't figure out how to deftly balance this full plate, I feel that is where I am headed.

Even as I author these thoughts, I get up to rinse a few dishes left from breakfast, pour my second cup of coffee without taking enough time to stir in the cream and sugar, check on the children playing in the living room and attempt to quell jealousy towards my still sleeping stepson. A call from the other room for attention, put off with the "Just one second!" mantra of my new life. She runs to me, instead, knowing that is the only way to have her conversation about the color of a baby doll's eyes.
I have the urge within me to create. To write words that resonate with others. To create images that will be passed down to future generations. To leave my voice in this world, somewhere, with someone. Truthfully, though, that voice I have should be given first to my children. Am I doing that to the best of my ability? Are they competing with the other side of Mama, the side that shares this voice with my clients who are seeking to have their own memories preserved through my lens?

Oh, and I am doing this single handedly at the moment. Being Mom and Dad, trying to show compassion and firmness, discipline and love, strength and tenderness. Without my husband and all his strengths to balance me out. My situation is not unique, but it is my situation and I have to find a unique solution to make it work for me. I type as one child tries to scramble into my lap, yearning for time with me. I edit images as feet pitter patter up the hallway to the computer with an announcement of the latest great idea. I wear guilt like my scarlet letter. Guilt for failing my family. Guilt for failing my clients. Guilt for not having the wherewithal to be all things to all people.

I have lived long enough to know that hindsight is an amazing optic through which to view my life. I know I will look back on this period of my life and wonder why I didn't do some things and why I did others. The frustrating part is I don't know specifically what those items are. For I am in it. I am in the forest and all I see are the trees. I do not have the perspective from 5 years in the future yet. So I look at my beautiful family, try to quiet the torrent of thoughts and be in the moment with them. I try. I am not very successful, for my mind has many storms and is rarely quiet. But I know the answer to this question of balance. I see it before me every day, growing and changing and learning from me.
My plate is full. But so is my heart.