a moment not lost

i want somewhere to express my thoughts. i don't keep a journal, a sad admission i know, and my thoughts aren't significant or filled with inspiring content, but i want to express them. i am writing in all lowercase cause my other hand is holding a darling baby who fought with all her might to stay out of her bassinet and in my arms and it is too hard to push the shift button and a letter simultaneously. if laid down for a minute, even in the deepest of sleep, she'd pop those eyes open and start wailing. so i am lying here, with the most precious thing i have, lying across my belly and thinking. i'm frustrated with myself for my impatience. as norah cried tonight, fighting sleep, food, her bassinet and even my arms, my mind wandered to the laundry that begs to be folded, the curtains that i'd love to see hung, dinner that i'd like to eat, scriptures that i'm hungering to read and tidying that i'd like to do. my mind wandered to these insignificant and unimportant things ( with the exception of the scriptures:) and urged me to impatiently lay norah down, although she didn't want that. so i lie here, with heaven in my arms, listening to coos, watching gumless smiles and fluttering eyes. i could have missed this; all for curtains, laundry and a tidy house. thank goodness i didn't. how many things have i missed in my life in order to check another thing off my list? how many times have i driven blindly down a road missing the stunning red leaves on the side, or rushed through the grocery store oblivious to my favorite song being played? i don't want to miss anything more. i want to slow down. after all, those checks on my list are worth nothing compared to the treasure in my arm.