I sat at the kitchen table, full of veggie straw crumbs and the remnants of 3 turkey sandwiches. You climbed up in my lap and squeezed my arm while we watched through the archway your brothers dancing in the living room.
It was one of those moments that caught me off guard. Nothing spectacular. Very very ordinary, actually. Dance parties, simple meals, babies in laps. This is my everyday life. But something about this particular moment I won’t forget.
It was the moment I realized that God has given me a gut wrenching gift as a parent. One that brought tears to my eyes the instant I realized the gravity of it.
It’s the gift of my sons curled up in my lap, squeezing my arm and not wanting to let go. The dance parties in the living room, so unguarded so unburdened. Were we dancing to Toby Mac or Billy Joel? I don’t remember because they are both your favorite. The turkey and cheese, veggie straws, sippy cups. Even the spilled milk.
I know there will be a day where you, my boys, don’t want to hug me until you fall asleep. You won’t always ask me for a cheese sandwich or to help with your juice box straw. I know one day you will be aware of the eyes watching and you won’t dance as freely as I see you now.
Something about that moment felt final, clear. Possibly because I saw myself as a young mom again. A first time, everything is overwhelming, mom. I ache for her. I want to scoop her up and tell her just hold on. Sit with him a little longer, sing that song again, don’t worry about doing everything right. Just love him. And know how deeply and truly loved you are.
So this is for you, Mama of littles. My letter to you to say it’s worth it. They will grow up and you won’t always be so tired. You’re doing a glorious job at raising those babies.