What if these moments – these messy moments, covered with children on the couch, balancing sippy cups and story books – all while spaghetti sauce pops red hot on the white stove top – what if these very moments culminate as good as it gets?
Is there really anything better?
One of the best ways to savor the sweet yet messy motherhood days is to surrender to them. Don’t run from the beautiful chaos. Sink your toes deep in the moments of now and linger with your children. You’ll lose yourself. Somewhere in-between the exploded diaper in the crib at naptime and the blue crayon that got tossed in the dryer with the white load – you’re lost.
But I don’t think that I want to be found.
This motherhood messy goodness doesn’t simply apply to having children ages five and under. It’s all good and muddled at our house. Over halfway to manhood, he towers over this five ft three Momma. He’s almost six ft tall. Did I mention that he’s only twelve? He’s deep into WWII history studies, and he can’t devour enough information on gunmanship.
Just this week he made an announcement.
Are you ready for this?
His little brothers can have his Legos.
Even though I can’t imagine he’s serious, it’s bitter sweet.
The bitter taste is the fact that I don’t remember the exact day manhood started to take over my boy – my first boy. I don’t remember the moment the mustache hairs popped out on his upper-lip. I can hardly remember his boyhood laughter now. It’s all crowded out now by the height and the deep voice and World War II, but I’m clinging.
I wonder if I got too stuck in the messy, and if I truly enjoyed every moment that the Lord has given me with him. Did I miss it, Lord? Did I squander any moments that could have been treasures?
I am the chief among sinners for not always getting it right.
Also, know that I taste the sweet. I am here. I haven’t left him. As a child who was abandoned my biggest fear has always been that I would somehow leave my children. I’ve always fought to be fully here – fully in body, mind, and spirit. I look at him and admire this strong young man, and this becoming. I don’t bemoan because I want my little boy back. I’m excited that I’m growing a man for Jesus and his growing is part of my growth.
Even though most days I’m stuck in the juggle of many babies, many lost socks, and many crossfires for my attention – one day soon part of my heart will burst into the world as a Godly man.
I hold on, and I soak up these days.
And these grace gifts may be as good as it gets. This is it ladies, we are living in the moments now as mothers, that we’ll dream about when we’re old and tucked in our beds. These baby faces that use our best scarf on a Sunday morning as a tissue and then look up and say, “Thanks Momma,” these moments are as good as it gets and I wouldn’t trade them for any other way.