Sunday was as beautiful a summer day as you could get. It screamed for us to GO OUTSIDE, DO SOMETHING SUMMER-Y before it's too late! So after naps we rushed around, grabbed diapers and cups and bibs and shoes and sunglasses and bags and out the door we flew, all five of us, for a little walk around a lovely resort town near us.
We parked, got out the double stroller and the single stroller, and I braced myself. The streets were teaming with people and I was ready for their comments. The ones we get whenever we take our littles out. The half-whispered, "well they sure have their hands full," to the not so quiet - "oh, are they twins!? And another so soon!" I'm used to those utterings - they are the wish-I-had-a-dime-for-everytime-I-heard-that comments we receive.
But not on Sunday, on Sunday, a different comment came along. One I was not as ready for.
We were crossing the street, our little parade of strollers, and an older gentleman was crossing opposite us. He smiled at us (I braced myself for one of the familiar comments, ready to nod my head and smile), he lifted his arms out to my littles and cried out joyfully, "The future, the future! All around me is the future!" I smiled and nodded because that is what I am programmed to do. But I couldn't let his words go. They followed me through the stores and art galleries, up and down the sidewalk along the water, and down to the park where we ate dinner.
Because it hit me. Yes, the children are the future, but it was more than that. These particular children were MY future. The path I was on now included them and their path included me. Because I know they are the future - and I want them to grow-up to know that what they do matters, who they are matters, no matter what profession or vocation or whatever-you-want-to-call it they choose. Brain surgeon or truck driver or engineer or grocery store clerk. If they are saying "yes" to God in their life then wooeee will I be one proud mama.
Well, and then it got a little more personal, because it reminded me that what I do matters. The lessons I teach them and the kindness I try to show them and the gratitude I try to live, well, it matters. I get so caught up in all the logistics of three young children - the butts wiped, the faces washed, diapers changed, shoes put on, mouths fed, screams hushed, cries soothed. And there are some days when I collapse on the couch and survey the dirty house and pile of dishes and swirl of dog hair under the chair and wonder, "What did I do all day?"
And somedays I believe the lie that I did nothing, that I should go on Pinterest and find some more educational activities for my littles or I should really go sign them up for this and that class, or that gosh darn it tomorrow will be the day that I tackle the piles of laundry.
But that is the lie. That parenting is in achieving and doing and cleaning and making neat. Each day with my littles I am recognizing that lie in my life, and trying (and mostly failing, if I'm honest) to let it all go. To enjoy my littles and to realize that what I do with them and show them and act towards them matters.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
The Story of You
Today I celebrate my wee-est little one. One year ago I got to see her face to face for the first time. I was already in love, but the bond was cemented in the first look, the first brush of finger against soft baby skin. I knew right then that she was the miracle I never knew I needed.
These days when I take the littles out this comment invariably gets uttered by some stranger, "Oh wow, twins and then another one so soon? Aren't you brave."
At which point I want to laugh. Brave? Not the least bit. I am the most fraidy-cat person I know. A planner and dreamer and prideful son-of-a-gun who likes to know how things will turn out. Who likes to touch a toe into the waters to test before she gets in too deep. Heaven forbid I try something I may not be good at and look a fool. I can plan and scheme my way out of anything to preserve my image.
You think after my planning and scheming of starting a family in my timeline faltered and flopped I would have learned. You think after months of crying in bathroom stalls and more months of drugs and treatments and procedures I would have learned. I thought I had learned.
All of our plans, our dreams, our best thoughts for how our life will go are nothing but illusions of control. The grasping at straws at the notion that life works as an if/then statement.
After the treatments and the hallelujah positive pregnancy test and the news of twins and rough pregnancy and bed rest came the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. A beautiful girl. A handsome boy. They were not a part of my initial plans. They were the product of a journey focused on hope and forged on trust in a God who does indeed fulfill the desires of our hearts. In his own time. In a way more beautiful than we could have imagined. In a journey in which we realize that its not the end game that matters. Its the things we are being opened to, made aware of along the way.
But how easily I fell back into my old habits. The need for control. The planning. The belief that my life was back to normal. The twins were in a routine, sleeping through the night, things were all rose-colored glasses and half-full cups! There had not been time for testing the waters here - newborns don't allow for such a luxury, but after 9 months I was proud of what we had accomplished and conquered. We had made it through the better part of infant twin-dom!
And I had even been coming around to my husband's notion that we were done with kids with just these two. I had even uttered to my mom, "We know our odds of getting pregnant naturally - if God wants us to have another one, he's going to have to work a miracle."
And then the pink lines. The stunned look I saw reflected in my husband's face. This just could not be. This was not in my plans. This was not how I thought it, life, would be.
But then, there you were. All 8 pounds of wondrous you. And in that first moment I held you, I learned all over again. We won't always get what we think we want. The safe and tame plan might just yield the safe and tame, but the wild and crazy reality is what builds a story.
These days when I take the littles out this comment invariably gets uttered by some stranger, "Oh wow, twins and then another one so soon? Aren't you brave."
At which point I want to laugh. Brave? Not the least bit. I am the most fraidy-cat person I know. A planner and dreamer and prideful son-of-a-gun who likes to know how things will turn out. Who likes to touch a toe into the waters to test before she gets in too deep. Heaven forbid I try something I may not be good at and look a fool. I can plan and scheme my way out of anything to preserve my image.
You think after my planning and scheming of starting a family in my timeline faltered and flopped I would have learned. You think after months of crying in bathroom stalls and more months of drugs and treatments and procedures I would have learned. I thought I had learned.
All of our plans, our dreams, our best thoughts for how our life will go are nothing but illusions of control. The grasping at straws at the notion that life works as an if/then statement.
After the treatments and the hallelujah positive pregnancy test and the news of twins and rough pregnancy and bed rest came the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. A beautiful girl. A handsome boy. They were not a part of my initial plans. They were the product of a journey focused on hope and forged on trust in a God who does indeed fulfill the desires of our hearts. In his own time. In a way more beautiful than we could have imagined. In a journey in which we realize that its not the end game that matters. Its the things we are being opened to, made aware of along the way.
But how easily I fell back into my old habits. The need for control. The planning. The belief that my life was back to normal. The twins were in a routine, sleeping through the night, things were all rose-colored glasses and half-full cups! There had not been time for testing the waters here - newborns don't allow for such a luxury, but after 9 months I was proud of what we had accomplished and conquered. We had made it through the better part of infant twin-dom!
And I had even been coming around to my husband's notion that we were done with kids with just these two. I had even uttered to my mom, "We know our odds of getting pregnant naturally - if God wants us to have another one, he's going to have to work a miracle."
And then the pink lines. The stunned look I saw reflected in my husband's face. This just could not be. This was not in my plans. This was not how I thought it, life, would be.
But then, there you were. All 8 pounds of wondrous you. And in that first moment I held you, I learned all over again. We won't always get what we think we want. The safe and tame plan might just yield the safe and tame, but the wild and crazy reality is what builds a story.
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