When I think of words to describe this season of my life, crazy is definitely one of them. Some days are so crazy, in fact, that I can’t for the life of me remember what made them that way when I try to recall it the next day.
I won’t remember that today I got to play Lego Star Wars with a certain four-year-old. BUT, I will remember and continue to cherish his love for the back story in every game he plays. Some may think Angry Birds is a mindless game, but he knows why the birds are angry and takes great pains to recreate the scenes of how they rescue their poor eggs from those mean pigs before bringing justice to all involved.
I likely won’t remember that we sat down to watch a rainy-day movie and everything seemed perfect to my mama-sentimental heart. Mom & son curled up under a blanket in our sweats and my coffee, except when the show got started, Daisy woke up from her nap and brought her sweet, beautiful chaos to the bookshelves and DVD cases after I changed her diaper instead of still being under the cozy blanket. Then Dash decided he’d rather play Lego’s with me, and I felt that incredible depth of blessed that comes with knowing he desired to play with me rather than sit through a silly movie we rented from the Red Box, as he calls it.
I won’t remember that in 30 minutes time, I dodged a curious crawler and a boy with a light saber while I tried vacuuming the floors. Then I gave baby a bath and set up boy with bath crayons only to have to dislodge a piece of one of the crayons from his nose. Curiosity sure can be our enemy sometimes, you know? 😉
I won’t remember exactly how it feels to hold a baby who fights falling asleep. The way she arches her back and pretends to detest a pacifier only to give in seconds later to a sweet, exhausted embrace in the rocking chair.
I may not remember the way that Daddy ran into her room and snatched her up for snuggles before I had a chance to go in and comfort her. Will I remember the look of adoring pride in his smile when I peeked in a few minutes later to see her contentedly asleep on his lap? Probably.
I won’t remember all of the details years from now, but I hope that I remember how much I love this time in my life. Both the insanity and the sweetness. The loud cacophony of father and son wrestling as well as the sweet silence of a sleeping baby in my arms. I do my best to make each hug I give and receive really count for something.
Today those hugs counted for a lot. I won’t remember the details of the crazy or all of the ludicrous mom statements I make like, “Don’t let your sister lick your foot!” I will, however, continue to cherish every single hug those sweet kids give me through each stage of their life, and I have a feeling that I’ll love a 12-year-old’s hug just as much as I love a 4-year-old’s.