In sharp contrast to last Tuesday, this afternoon was practically perfect in every way. It was filled with bubbles and paint and dirt and sidewalk chalk and pudding popsicles and footprints and sunshine and cement and tiny bicycles and sweaty little boys and squealing little girls and smiling little babies and a Daddy and a Momma and a dog and a water hose. My cup runneth over.
It really was the perfect sort of top-knotch afternoon. And y'all, I realize these splendid sort of days are a rare occurance, so I want to capture every memory, every moment, every feeling that we shared today while it's still fresh on my mind and in my heart. I want to bottle it all up, store it on a shelf, and keep it there until I need it.
And then, when the hectic days come; when the "I just need to survive until bedtime" days occur (and I know they will), I want to be able to remember this feeling. I want to pull that bottle of liquid joy down and use it to help fill my dry, parched cup. I want to take some of the happiness that overflowed in my heart this afternoon and save it for the days when it's running in short supply.
I think God gives me days like these because He knows how much I need them. I need them for the memories they give me. For the impression they make on my heart. For the boost in confidence they give me as a parent. As a Momma to three small kids, I know sometimes (a lot of times, if I'm being honest with y'all) I feel like I am doing a bum job as a parent. My kids fight in public. They run in the church foyer. They choke themselves on hard candy. They squabble over toys. Sometimes, y'all, I feel lost and hopeless and overwhelmed and stressed and frustrated and near tears and completely drained. Days like this are just the pat on the back that I need.
If I had a pack of those foil star stickers, I'd put a gold star beside today. Today reminded me that I must be doingsomething at least one thing right in this whole parenting journey I'm in. The moments I savored this afternoon will recharge my batteries before I face another day at home training and raising and rearing our children.
This afternoon was perfect. It wasn't planned or scheduled or brought about by any forethought whatsoever on my part. It just sort of...happened. The kids woke up from their naps in excellent moods- such good moods that I told them that as soon as I fed the baby that we could head outside for a while to play. BEST NEWS EVER. Nowadays, it's not always easy for me to say yes to the marathon outside playtime thing with a rolling, squirming infant to keep happy and occupied, but now, looking back, I am so glad I did. Because now, I will have warm memories of today like this one:
(What I love most about my home is who I share it with.)
There are so many things that I want to remember about today. I want to remember Luke's excitement and pride when he showed me how fast he could peddle down the driveway on his bike with his sweaty hair stuck to his forehead, squished under the backwards helmet he proudly put on my himself. I want to remember Josie's jubilation over the bubbles we blew as she'd run screaming through them like a tiny tornado. How she'd come back to me, breathless and laughing, begging for mooooore. I want to remember the fierce determination Nathan had as he roooolled himself over and puuuushed his way onto the grass to crane his neck to follow the ever changing movements of his older siblings. (He can't wait to get in on the action, and when he does- heaven help me, y'all.)
I want to remember how perfectly timed Matt's arrival home was. How the dog barked and the kids squealed and jumped and whooped and hollered when they saw his work truck turn into our driveway. How they took off running to him, wrapping themselves around his legs and arms in a flurry of hugs and stories and a quick showcase of the day's latest injuries.
How happy they were when we just PLAYED. We poked sticks into a pile of sand and watered my just-beginning-to-bloom gardenia bushes. We rode bikes and sidewalk chalked in the afternoon shade of our oak trees and every now and then, if the wind was just right, I could smell them. What a perfect scent memory.
We did absolutely nothing important and absolutely everything important. We were just HOME. It was the five of us, playing and laughing and crying and forgiving each other together for a whole afternoon. When Luke suffered an injustice at the hands of his little sister, he didn't retaliate, but instead chose gentleness. Josie snatched a toy away from Luke, and he instintively wanted to retaliate, but I got to see him actually process his reaction, to stop and say outloud: "Uh-oooh. I needsa have swome swelf-contwol." How it was so good to see him growing and maturing and changing into such a Godly little boy. He won't always react this well to toy-snatching-injustice, that's for certain. But seeing those seeds we planted sprout- even just a little- MAN, y'all. How much that warms my little Momma heart.
This afternoon really was practically perfect in every way. It's just what I needed to have. Tomorrow will come and there will be a fresh set of squabbles to soothe and knees to kiss and juice cups to fix and diapers to change and hugs to give. It's easy, on the hard days, to let my cup run dry. And that's why I'm even more grateful for days like these when my cup runneth over. So I can catch a little and save it for when I'll need it again. Because I will. And God knows that. So He gives me days like today. And I am thankful.
It really was the perfect sort of top-knotch afternoon. And y'all, I realize these splendid sort of days are a rare occurance, so I want to capture every memory, every moment, every feeling that we shared today while it's still fresh on my mind and in my heart. I want to bottle it all up, store it on a shelf, and keep it there until I need it.
And then, when the hectic days come; when the "I just need to survive until bedtime" days occur (and I know they will), I want to be able to remember this feeling. I want to pull that bottle of liquid joy down and use it to help fill my dry, parched cup. I want to take some of the happiness that overflowed in my heart this afternoon and save it for the days when it's running in short supply.
I think God gives me days like these because He knows how much I need them. I need them for the memories they give me. For the impression they make on my heart. For the boost in confidence they give me as a parent. As a Momma to three small kids, I know sometimes (a lot of times, if I'm being honest with y'all) I feel like I am doing a bum job as a parent. My kids fight in public. They run in the church foyer. They choke themselves on hard candy. They squabble over toys. Sometimes, y'all, I feel lost and hopeless and overwhelmed and stressed and frustrated and near tears and completely drained. Days like this are just the pat on the back that I need.
If I had a pack of those foil star stickers, I'd put a gold star beside today. Today reminded me that I must be doing
This afternoon was perfect. It wasn't planned or scheduled or brought about by any forethought whatsoever on my part. It just sort of...happened. The kids woke up from their naps in excellent moods- such good moods that I told them that as soon as I fed the baby that we could head outside for a while to play. BEST NEWS EVER. Nowadays, it's not always easy for me to say yes to the marathon outside playtime thing with a rolling, squirming infant to keep happy and occupied, but now, looking back, I am so glad I did. Because now, I will have warm memories of today like this one:
There are so many things that I want to remember about today. I want to remember Luke's excitement and pride when he showed me how fast he could peddle down the driveway on his bike with his sweaty hair stuck to his forehead, squished under the backwards helmet he proudly put on my himself. I want to remember Josie's jubilation over the bubbles we blew as she'd run screaming through them like a tiny tornado. How she'd come back to me, breathless and laughing, begging for mooooore. I want to remember the fierce determination Nathan had as he roooolled himself over and puuuushed his way onto the grass to crane his neck to follow the ever changing movements of his older siblings. (He can't wait to get in on the action, and when he does- heaven help me, y'all.)
I want to remember how perfectly timed Matt's arrival home was. How the dog barked and the kids squealed and jumped and whooped and hollered when they saw his work truck turn into our driveway. How they took off running to him, wrapping themselves around his legs and arms in a flurry of hugs and stories and a quick showcase of the day's latest injuries.
How happy they were when we just PLAYED. We poked sticks into a pile of sand and watered my just-beginning-to-bloom gardenia bushes. We rode bikes and sidewalk chalked in the afternoon shade of our oak trees and every now and then, if the wind was just right, I could smell them. What a perfect scent memory.
We did absolutely nothing important and absolutely everything important. We were just HOME. It was the five of us, playing and laughing and crying and forgiving each other together for a whole afternoon. When Luke suffered an injustice at the hands of his little sister, he didn't retaliate, but instead chose gentleness. Josie snatched a toy away from Luke, and he instintively wanted to retaliate, but I got to see him actually process his reaction, to stop and say outloud: "Uh-oooh. I needsa have swome swelf-contwol." How it was so good to see him growing and maturing and changing into such a Godly little boy. He won't always react this well to toy-snatching-injustice, that's for certain. But seeing those seeds we planted sprout- even just a little- MAN, y'all. How much that warms my little Momma heart.
This afternoon really was practically perfect in every way. It's just what I needed to have. Tomorrow will come and there will be a fresh set of squabbles to soothe and knees to kiss and juice cups to fix and diapers to change and hugs to give. It's easy, on the hard days, to let my cup run dry. And that's why I'm even more grateful for days like these when my cup runneth over. So I can catch a little and save it for when I'll need it again. Because I will. And God knows that. So He gives me days like today. And I am thankful.
"Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow." James the brother of Jesus, James 1:17
You write so well. I really enjoyed this blog. I felt like I was there with ya'll. I wish I could tell you that those feelings of parenting "no so well done" will be gone one day, but I have always second guessed my decisions as a parent. I finally came to a peaceful resolution when I could honestly say that I had done the best I could. I put everything I had into that job. I know you do too. You are a wonderful mom.
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