by Elisabeth K. Corcoran - June 2011 - www.elisabethcorcoran.com - Used by permission
My daughter came home with her freshman course schedule this week. I almost fainted. I am in complete and utter denial that Sara is going into high school. My son likes to point out that she’ll be able to get her driver’s permit this year. He does that to watch me either tear up or freak out, depending on my mood.
I do not have young children anymore. And there are days when I barely even remember what having young children feels like.
So I’ve got one concept for you today. Cherish. Soak in. Remember. Be intentional. And I say all these things knowing that I’m sure someone said them to me. Knowing that I didn’t always succeed in doing them. But my hope is that you listen more carefully than I did.
It is more than a cliché that time flies. I remember enough about the little kid years to remember that I sometimes thought the day I was in would never end. And now I look back and realize that there are hundreds of days and thousands of moments that I can’t even recall, because they all went so fast.
What I would give for one day – in the middle of my life right now – of going back in time and reliving a typical stay-at-home mommy day with my toddlers. Just one day.
And this is maybe what I would do differently if I could, maybe what I would tell my younger, more tired self…
Your children are absolute gifts. Your children adore you. Your children are watching you. Your children are more important than laundry, than vacuuming, than time on the computer. Your children need you to love them well, need you to mean what you say and say what you mean. Your children need you to love Jesus with all your heart. It’s okay to sit on the couch with them and cuddle for five more minutes…in just a few years, they may not want to do this. In just a few more years, everything will feel different. Just sit. Just watch. Just listen. Just take it all in.
And I’m saying this to myself today as I look down the road and realize that in just a few more years, my kids will be gone, on their own. I still need to just sit, just watch, just listen, just take it all in.
Pray for eyes to see your children the way God does, and then…enjoy them.
MOTHERHOOD IS MESSY.
by Lauren Beckner
The Beckner Bulletin: Motherhood is Messy. http://darrenandlauren.blogspot.com - Used by permission
This week, I was supposed to log on to my summer courses and introduce myself, with a brief description of my life. As all of my classmates posted about their awesome jobs in the military, or the Pentagon, or for the FBI... I was trying to figure out how to describe my life. I finally posted up something lame like Hi, my name is Lauren and I stay at home with my two young kids and I enjoy exercising and baking and reading, and I look forward to learning with you all. But then I thought that seemed so... insufficient. Here is what I should have said.
Motherhood is so messy. If you walked in my house today, you would notice...
... that while it is clean...ish... there are hallmarks of children everywhere. Handprints on windows (and walls!), art on the fridge, a smattering of toys in random locations, sippy cups drying in the sink, and mismatched flip flops flung off by the back door...right next to the backpack in the floor...where it shouldn't be.
You would also notice that at 2:53 pm, I'm eating lunch while paying bills in a rare moment of quiet. And I'm about to squeeze in a few phone interviews while there is no background of Elmo and "MOM! Mom! Mommy! Momma! Lauren!" Next to me, on my desk, you would see a bouquet of pink baby roses that my sweet girl picked out for me in Kroger last night and came home shouting "Happy Mothers' Day!" even though that day is long past. You would also see a pair of broken sunglasses, smashed by chubby baby hands. And a few books of a political nature that I've yet to crack open for next week's summer courses.
You wouldn't see an ipod anywhere, because I'm pretty sure it was misplaced by someone pretending it was a cell phone. And there is a colony of ants feeding on toddler crumbs under the dining room table (where do they come from so instantly?!). You would notice that "Going on a Bear Hunt" and "If You Give a Moose a Muffin" are on the couch, because we've only read them 734 times since Saturday, when we checked them out from the library.
You would notice that while I completed the Ironman (26.2 miles running, 112 biking, and 1.2 swimming), I still have the signature baby pooch from carrying two little humans within me. I quit kidding myself that it would go away quite some time ago. You would probably notice a smudge of snot on my shoulder from comforting a baby's boo-boo, and see a small streak of mascara under one eye where I got the sniffles in the car after hearing a song about making memories with your daughter. And there might be a chance that I look tired.
Motherhood is messy.
In spite of all of those things, you would probably also notice the myriad of pictures plastered to the walls, and the preschool progress report on proud display. You would see a sweet homemade candle holder with daisies painted on using fingerprints, and if you stuck around long enough, when naptime was over... you'd see me greeted with huge smiles and bear hugs and "Mommy, what are we doin' next?!" You would probably hear some sort of singing and tons of giggles. Dinner would be served on plasticware. There would be games played, kisses given, and bedtime prayers.
Motherhood is messy, but I wouldn't trade it for any other job in the entire world. Not even the freakin' Pentagon. I'm so thankful for these silly monkeys that let me have the greatest. job. ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment