Unexpectedly Difficult Joy

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Image credit: pixabay.com

Sometimes, late at night, the soft whisper of feet on the floor gently pulls me from sleep as one of the children appears by my bed, groggy, disoriented, and asking to climb in.  I silently lift the covers and shift slightly to allow a warm, tiny body to curl up next to mine.  Wrapping my arms around the little person next to me, I feel their heart beating wildly in their chest.  I wait for it to slow, for their breathing to deepen, and then I relax knowing that whatever inner storm that woke them has passed.  Together we fall slowly and softly to sleep, drifting into dreams that swirl contentedly between us.

The sweetness of the moment is almost enough to make up for the inevitable hour when I wake up to find a foot pressed up against my cheek, followed by flailing arms, a puddle of drool, and missing sheets.

This pretty much sums up what parenting small children is like.  Heartbreakingly beautiful moments followed by pain, confusion, mess and exhaustion.  One giant ball of unexpectedly difficult joy.

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Originally posted on March 31, 2016 by Motherhood Made Me Do It

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Award Winning Moments

Ever notice how when one (or more) of your kids is acting up, the other siblings suddenly start polishing their halos in an effort to win that much coveted “Kid of the Moment” smile from mom?

Like tonight, for example, when Emma was lying in bed screaming for water, and Isaac was sprawled helplessly across his bed pleading for me to tuck him in again (because he had gotten out of bed after the first time I tucked him in, and now the covers had turned to lead, and he was undoubtedly going to freeze to death overnight).  Meanwhile, Gabriel was smiling sweetly up at me from his pillow, quietly boasting about how he had gotten his own water, tucked himself back in, and then “Farted, but kept it under the covers so the room wouldn’t smell.”

The “Kid of the Moment” smile from Mom was well earned by Gabriel tonight, my friends.  The other kids got the “Oops!  The Kids Pushed Mom Too Far, And Now She’s Got Those Batshit Crazy Eyes Again!” consolation prize.

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Originally published on March 4, 2016 by Motherhood Made Me Do It

The Moments That Seem Like Nothing, But Mean Everything

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Image Credit: pixabay.com

I am up early every day during the week just so I have time to sip my coffee quietly on the couch and watch as the sun rinses the last bits of night from the morning sky.  It is one of my favourite times of the day.  This also happens to be my younger sons’ favourite time of the day, but for a different reason.  About ten minutes into my coffee I will inevitably hear the soft shuffle of feet across the floorboards above, followed by the muffled tumble of footsteps on the stairs.  Seconds later my beautiful, sweet boy will appear in the living room, sleep still clinging to his eyes.  With ruffled hair and a drowsy smile he will climb awkwardly onto the couch in order to fold his warm, sleepy body into mine.  I will rest my head on top of his, and time will stop while we sit, often in silence, and drink in the sweetness of the moment.  This is my daily reminder to breathe, to be present and to love the quiet in-between moments that may seem like nothing, but mean absolutely everything.

 

 

Like A Chihuahua Hopped Up On Speed, Ready To Start The Day

You know that feeling when you get out of bed in the morning and your foot has fallen asleep?  You stand up without realizing that it has gone numb, then you stagger around like a disoriented zombie, clutching at chairs and walls just trying to propel yourself forward.  Then the tingle starts; slow at first, a soft hint of a tickle.  You think you can handle it, so you roll your ankle and tap your foot, a challenge of sorts.  But then it happens.  A thousand tiny pin pricks of misery suddenly descend upon your foot, and you lose all control over your senses.  You hold your breath, roll your eyes and flap your hands to hurry the pain along.  Then you take tentative steps, boldly pushing back against the ridiculousness of it all until finally you are free enough to run wildly, like a Chihuahua hopped up on speed, ready to start the day.

Now that school has started again, this pretty much describes my daily morning struggle as the parent in charge of getting all three children to school in one piece, all the while maintaining the illusion of being a respectable, responsible adult along the way.  It isn’t pretty, friends.