I’m the sort of mom, whether it’s positive or negative, who likes to get things done- finish that pile of laundry, clean up the bathroom, do my Bible study, take the trash out, go for a walk outside- keep on truckin!
But that just wasn’t happening this morning. I tried getting to my list, but my toddler kept getting in the way. “Want to wash hands, Mama!” “I need a snack, Mama!” “I want to wash Silky, Mama!” “Help, Mama!” Inside this was me: 🙄😑😖😤☹️😩
That list just wasn’t happening and being a Homemaker was right out the window with the window-washing (that I haven’t done…. like, ever).
I stopped in my tracks and asked myself, “What have the voices of wisdom told me about parenting?” I heard from my mind’s memory box my former pastor’s wife tell me that when she finally had children after years of waiting that she was ready to have her life turned upside down and that she enjoyed every minute of raising three boys; I heard my longtime family friend who’s a CPA and mother of six (including twins in her 40s!) tell me that one of the best things you can do is drop everything and play with the kids, because in the blink of an eye they’re all grown up; I remembered the home I lived in with a family of four girls where there was beautiful chaos- those girls were so happy and their parents were full of laughter and fun.
So I took their advice and examples to heart and I dropped my To Do list. I pulled out the coloring books, we danced to Jungle Book tunes, we read a Psalm of the day (per E’s request), we read some Alfie stories by “Hurly Hoohs,” as E calls the author….
And I felt lighter than a feather, I felt like a kid again, I remembered what it was like to feel special and cared for and invested in when I was a kid….
And I realized, yet again, that being a Mama to my children looks like this kind of investment- it’s being present, doing life with them (not around or above them), showing up to their kind of party, playing their kind of games, getting into their world, being their friend.
The laundry will wait. But kids don’t keep.
In the hands of the potter,