Note: I’ll be on Relevant Radio’s Morning Air program to chat about this article on Monday, June 18 between 6:15 a.m.-6:30 a.m. ET / 3:15 a.m.-3:30 a.m. (!!!) PT. If it’s any good, I’ll post the link here. 😉
For so many years, I’ve been in the thick of things — up past my neck — submerged in the tiny army that God and my husband and I created and is slowly destroying me in the most painful and beautiful ways, one blow-out diaper and temper tantrum at a time.
I was so overwhelmed by the chaos and the noise and the sheer exhaustion that I couldn’t see this moment coming.
The moment when the eldest is jonesing to get her drivers permit. When the second is a freshly-minted teenager in her own right. When the third is on the cusp of double-digits and the fourth doesn’t need much help keeping up with the eldest three.
And then there’s the fifth. Goodness, the fifth. The one child with whom I’ve been privileged and blessed to be at home. For whom I’ve been on hand to experience every milestone even if I was lousy at documenting it for posterity. Everything about this last child is etched within me; it resides in a place that is at once tender and raw and grateful and strong.
And this fifth child cannot wait to go off to the big school with the big kids. I don’t take it personally.
A part of me is elated and relieved and bursting with pride and giddy anticipation for what comes next. And another, deeper part of me is just plain … bursting. Unraveling. Overcome and undone by it all.
Read the rest here
… the kids and Daddy will all go to a doctor’s appointment
and get lunch at Wendy’s
and feed the ducks at the duck pond. And … drumroll, please …
… the 21-month-old will say “Daddy” for the very first time. !!!
Actually, he said it just after I got home from work. Daddy was on the phone on the patio outside, and the boy child enthusiastically pointed outside, saying, “Yaggy, Yaggy!” I pointed at the man in question to clarify, and asked, “Daddy?” Out came the emphatic reply: “Yeah!” After Daddy came inside, I pointed again and inquired, “Who is this?” “Yaggy, Yaggy!” he said. So, ‘Yaggy” it is.
Yaggy was very happy. Yaggy smiled and kissed his son. “It’s about time,” said Yaggy. Yaggy was a bit concerned that his new name sounded oddly like “Shaggy” from the old Scooby-Doo cartoon. He wondered if he’ll have to start doling out Scooby snacks to the children periodically throughout the day.
About a year ago, I was at my wit’s end with the clutter and the chaos in my house; I had probably stepped on a particularly pointy Lego piece for the 75th time that day and couldn’t find a particular kid’s particular toy that he or she justhadtohave before we had to be somewhere 10 minutes ago.
It was right around this time that I was in a local store and saw a decorative sign that read: “All because two people fell in love.” The sign now proudly hangs on the wall above the kids’ play area. I bought and hung it as a reminder that, no matter the dolls, blocks, trucks, etc., etc. (and I do mean etc.), these children and the omnipresent mess they perpetuate represent the physical manifestation of the love my husband and I have for each other and are also a constant reminder, in joys and sorrows, of the love God has for me. And His love, quite unlike my front room, is always perfect.
In other words, none of that wonderful, horrible, ever-present mess would even be there if my husband and I hadn’t fallen in love. The sign reminds me that I am lucky and blessed in – and because of – my mess.