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.
