I had a sudden inspiration to line up our offspring one evening so I could send a photo to the faraway grandparents.
And there you have it. What I do with myself all day. Those two short ones at the end? They have a conspiracy going. Something like “let’s keep Mama guessing and hopping, then let’s hug her and pretend we didn’t do anything at all”.
Yeah, you might not surmise it, but that blond cherub… is a piece of work! The thing is, she is so incredibly resourceful. I have to remember that she didn’t mean to spill that Lake Erie sized puddle of milk on the kitchen floor. She was just getting a drink while her mama was out at the clothes line. She is a survivor, a self sufficient and helpful little thing, descended, no doubt, from some hunter/gatherer tribe. She is skilled at finding my gum stash, at going potty all BY HERSELF, and she KNOWS why she is wearing those striped socks with her flip-flops, thankyouverymuch. The evening that I discovered her decorating my Bible with a red marker, I remembered to breathe deeply and look at the lion she had drawn and painstakingly cut out for me that very day. Such creativity!
The very shortest one is squishy and fun and needy, especially when we are doing school. That is why I sit on the older children while she is napping. I will never understand why their loudest arguments have to occur right outside the nursery door. Asking, “What were you thinking?” is pointless, since they are always sorry, but they weren’t thinking.
This morning I finished a book by Mary Beth Chapman, titled Choosing to See. It is the story of their family walking through the heartbreak of losing a child in an accident. I was challenged to really make my days with my little guys count, to invest, yes, really pour myself into this journey of mothering.
It is easy to feel like I have too much to do, there is never enough time, the house will never be clean, I will be cooking until the day I die, etc. etc. I ask myself, where am I going? That goal of an orderly house without paper snibbles on the floor… is it really a worthy goal? What am I reaching for anyway? Is it my own convenience? Sanity? Quietness? I pray that I can keep my heart focused on eternity and on making “fat souls” as Rachel Jankovic describes it in her book “Loving the Little Years”.
Okay, math period is now over and I am sure the baby will be waking up any minute. So long!