momma thoughts
Today, it hit me hard.
In an attempt to get and stay motivated, it was baking, cleaning, laundry, and then what I had been avoiding and saving as the last thing to de-clutter and pack up--my crafting table.
Wasn't that big of a deal, really, until I unburied the photos.
The stacks of photographs, each single one bearing at least one set of bright, blue eyes staring back at me as I flipped through them.
Blue eys of a newborn baby, wrapped in a hospital blanket.
Blue eyes of a toddler with dozens of stickers placed all over her face.
Blue eyes of a girl on her first day of school.
Those blue eyes...
What happened to those little girls?
No more crying during the midle of the night, or pacifiers, or bottles, or having to pack a diaper bag with cheerios and toys and a change of clothes.
I flipped through more photos, not knowing the oldest was behind me.
"I can take only so much more of this...." I mumbled to myself.
Somehow able to read my heart, Kennedy said, "But, Mom, you're having one more baby."
True, my dear, but not the point.
What hapened to those little girls?
I remember all too many times when I wished that the phase we were in would soon be over. Potty training. Having to sit beside the bed so that she could fall asleep. Biting. Throwing fits. Somehow, I think I also wished us away into a time warp, one where the days seemed long, but yet the years disappeared in the blink of an eye.
And now, I have a 5-year old who talks with the cutest little lisp, is as ornrey as snot, and who is always creating something from nothing.
I have a 7-year old who looks like my mini-me, fusses and complains over the food I put on her dinner plate, and who has the most compassionate heart I know.
I have a 9-year old who has mere inches on me, can talk with the incessant attitude of a teenager, and who can be thoughtful beyond compare.
So this morning, they each thanked me for making cinnamon rolls for breakfast and then proceeded to open every single can of Pla-Doh at the kitchen table, creating concoctions of their own. Without me knowing, K washed all the dishes in the sink. They cleaned up the Pla-Doh, without being asked, and proceeded to wash, dry, and fold all the laundry they could find. They ate my non-exciting lunch of Ramen noodles without complaint (but lots of seconds). Then came play time with Barbies and baby dolls, cartoons and computer games. Next was wrestling with Dad, followed by the hour-long session of hide-and-seek with Dad. Supper was pizza night on the living room carpet (why not, when it's going to be pulled up and replaced anyways?), and then baths, and then the highly coveted Saturday night movie time.
What about this would I trade?
I have to laugh at myself when I consider 7 years ago. My Kennedy was 2 1/2, and her sister was about to arrive. I remember wondering/worrying how I would have enough love and attention to give two children, not just one. Would it work? Would one of them be left out?
And to think, now, that I'll have four.
There will be enough of what's needed to go around.
And I wouldn't trade it for the world....
In an attempt to get and stay motivated, it was baking, cleaning, laundry, and then what I had been avoiding and saving as the last thing to de-clutter and pack up--my crafting table.
Wasn't that big of a deal, really, until I unburied the photos.
The stacks of photographs, each single one bearing at least one set of bright, blue eyes staring back at me as I flipped through them.
Blue eys of a newborn baby, wrapped in a hospital blanket.
Blue eyes of a toddler with dozens of stickers placed all over her face.
Blue eyes of a girl on her first day of school.
Those blue eyes...
What happened to those little girls?
No more crying during the midle of the night, or pacifiers, or bottles, or having to pack a diaper bag with cheerios and toys and a change of clothes.
I flipped through more photos, not knowing the oldest was behind me.
"I can take only so much more of this...." I mumbled to myself.
Somehow able to read my heart, Kennedy said, "But, Mom, you're having one more baby."
True, my dear, but not the point.
What hapened to those little girls?
I remember all too many times when I wished that the phase we were in would soon be over. Potty training. Having to sit beside the bed so that she could fall asleep. Biting. Throwing fits. Somehow, I think I also wished us away into a time warp, one where the days seemed long, but yet the years disappeared in the blink of an eye.
And now, I have a 5-year old who talks with the cutest little lisp, is as ornrey as snot, and who is always creating something from nothing.
I have a 7-year old who looks like my mini-me, fusses and complains over the food I put on her dinner plate, and who has the most compassionate heart I know.
I have a 9-year old who has mere inches on me, can talk with the incessant attitude of a teenager, and who can be thoughtful beyond compare.
So this morning, they each thanked me for making cinnamon rolls for breakfast and then proceeded to open every single can of Pla-Doh at the kitchen table, creating concoctions of their own. Without me knowing, K washed all the dishes in the sink. They cleaned up the Pla-Doh, without being asked, and proceeded to wash, dry, and fold all the laundry they could find. They ate my non-exciting lunch of Ramen noodles without complaint (but lots of seconds). Then came play time with Barbies and baby dolls, cartoons and computer games. Next was wrestling with Dad, followed by the hour-long session of hide-and-seek with Dad. Supper was pizza night on the living room carpet (why not, when it's going to be pulled up and replaced anyways?), and then baths, and then the highly coveted Saturday night movie time.
What about this would I trade?
I have to laugh at myself when I consider 7 years ago. My Kennedy was 2 1/2, and her sister was about to arrive. I remember wondering/worrying how I would have enough love and attention to give two children, not just one. Would it work? Would one of them be left out?
And to think, now, that I'll have four.
There will be enough of what's needed to go around.
And I wouldn't trade it for the world....
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