There have been barbies in my bed all week. Usually I remember to toss them out into the hall, but sometimes one of them works her way to the foot of the bed to be discovered whenever I get around to stripping the bed to make it. Along with tiny socks, and lego minifigs. I wonder if my parents slept with so many toys when I was two years old. I suppose they must have.
I am not writing this post for any particular reason. I guess that’s why I haven’t written since my baby was a week old. She is now six weeks old and I finally decided that instead of worrying about ruining my good record for posts with “good SEO”, I’m just going to go back to using my blog as a raw, authentic outlet.
I need it. I can count on one hand the times I have left my house since Poppy’s birth. And I don’t see that number improving in the next week or two because we’ve all been so sick. Including the baby.
Aside from needing a friend every once in a while, I have learned I don’t really need to leave my house that much anyway. The past six weeks have been so blessed and wonderful, but also taxing and filled with me sitting anxiously nursing on the couch while my kids have their way with the house right in front of my eyes. Breastfeeding is rad and I am grateful for it, but the thing that has definitely happened too often to count on one hand is me chained to whatever piece of furniture I’m nursing in while watching helplessly as my troll year-old dumps yet another bag of chips/crackers/something messy and crumby all over the kitchen floor. While standing on the kitchen table. With her older brother watching. It wasn’t him. He didn’t do it. But he’s grinning.
I’ve been in awe of my kids lately. Especially Parley. The situations I just described have been wearing me out. And I’ve been yelling a lot. Which makes me feel really guilty. So, I started reading the parenting manual found in the Gospel Library. (Hah.) I’ve enjoyed and appreciated everything I’ve read, but a particular section encouraging parents to treasure their children and get to know them as individuals slapped me in the face.
I was most certainly not treasuring my kids. In fact, more often than not, I found myself resenting certain traits they possess. So I checked myself and have been trying to find something new every day to “treasure”. It has helped me immensely.
It makes me very sad to think about the mean, grouchy mommy they have had to put up with. Especially Parley. I’ve let his sweet, joyful disposition irritate me in the past. Not only do I not want to stifle this about him, but those are words people used to use to describe me! I’m trying to dig it back up. To join in on the cheerfulness and treasure these moments.
Poppy has helped as well. The realization that these times with newborns, toddlers, every phase of life really just passes so quickly has urged me to savor it as best I can. I look at her, smell her, feel her warm little body pressed against my chest (because she won’t sleep anywhere else) and I long for that with Parley and Vi. To do it again.
So, I’m hearkening to the words of every seasoned mother in the universe and I’m living in the moment and trying not to take any of it for granted. I am treasuring this beautiful, blessed family God has given me.