My days are filled with little feet and little hands.
Little feet pattering into my room in the morning, running up and down the hallway all day. Hands that get into everything, make spills, make messes, get out toys and other things they are not supposed to be touching.
Little hands always reaching up to be held. Little arms wanting to hug me when I'm sitting on the floor and overwhelmed.
Dozens of little outfits needing to be laundered. Little cups and dishes waiting to be washed. There isn't enough time in the day.
Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to move through molasses. Some days it feels like nothing really gets done.
Life as a stay at home mom is hard. I don't mean to complain, I don't want to complain, I'm doing what I believe is a valuable thing that the Lord has called me to do. I don't want to sit and rant about how every day is the same and how I'm always cleaning up something or wiping someone's bottom or fixing someone's breakfast, lunch or dinner, or snack. I don't want to complain.
But it is hard. It's demanding and it doesn't really stop. Except when they blessedly fall asleep.
Getting the child to sleep is another story though. It takes all I have to get them to bed some days. It also takes all I have to keep them in bed. Aria is easy, I put a new diaper on her, put on her jammies, we say good night to daddy and she is in bed. Levi is another story completely. He requires help with his pull up, his pajamas, brushing his teeth, coaxing and eventually threatening punishment if he doesn't at least try to go to the bathroom. We read books, there's always an argument on how many. I say two he says five, we usually end up with three. Then there are songs and scratching his back and then I pray and then he always needs and kiss and a hug or two or three. It's like I feel like I'm conditioning him into sleep. If we skip any of these long, detailed steps we have to go back or there is major whining or crying and eventually spanking because we are not going to stand for that. I have to say it is so hard though. And then when he gets out of his bed, it's hard not to get angry and say, "I did all these things and all these steps, you have to stay in bed now!"
I really did this to myself though. Somewhere along the line we started to do more than one song, then we started to read more than one book. I kept giving and he kept taking. That's probably why Aria's bedtime is so simple, because that's all I gave her. We don't read books at night, just during the day. I sing one song and she usually doesn't care whether or not I finish either. When she was younger I would often walk out in the middle of it, just start the song and lay her down and walk away. Oh, if only I could go back. But I also have to keep in mind that she is a different child than Levi and we wouldn't be guaranteed the same thing anyways.
I struggle with anger. I struggle with depression. I struggle with significance, maybe that's why the internet and social media are so appealing at times... it's a way to feel significant (not that it's always the case).
What I must say, is that it's also a great joy. To get to see my kids grow and change every day, to get to know the intricacies of their personalities and desires. I get to know them better than anyone else on the planet. I get to be the one to kiss their ouchies, I get to celebrate their victories and encourage them. I get to sit in our big green chair and read them story after story, I get to watch them play and jump on the couch. I get to see them run up and down the hall as they eat their snacks. They make me laugh if I stop taking life so seriously.
Lord, help me to treasure these moments. Help me not to waste this.