On Saturday, Joshua took the three older kids to his parents house so they could play while he worked on bookshelves for his study (he’s almost done—happy squeal!) Ned had a cold and I had a pounding headache so we stayed home for naps.
Just looking for something mischievous to do. (thanks Lydia for the photo)
Three hours later, Ned woke up with a grin. For the rest of the afternoon, we had a quiet home all to ourselves. It was like having an only child again. I had a few things to do (like conquer my disgustingly dirty kitchen floor), but most of the time I just soaked in the quiet moments with him.
With a grin, he would look at me, take a couple steps, then turn to see if I was following him. When he saw me coming, he’d burst into a laugh and take a few more steps. We traipsed upstairs and into the girls’ bedroom. He found his favorite chair and plopped himself down. Then burst into stomach rippling giggles.
Then the game changed. Whatever I did, he tried to copy with a grunt or baby babble. It was adorably hilarious.
As I savored the time watching him, laughing with him, and simply enjoying his sweet, funny personality, I realized how much better I want to be about intentionally enjoying my children. Not just on days when I get special one-on-one time, but every single day.
Savoring this mommy adventure
I want to laugh with my children more. That good, roaring kind of laughing that sends tears down your face and leaves you a bit breathless.
I want to play with my children more, and not just teach them to play happily with each other.
I want to savor each unique personality more, even though it’s sometimes hard to do in the midst of the chaos.
I want to invite them into the kitchen or garden with me every day, even when it makes whatever I’m working on take twice as long.
I want to make more happy memories together as we build our family culture.
I want to ask them more questions, and listen better to their answers.
I want to fully embrace this adventure of motherhood, and never lose sight of the fact that I wouldn’t trade this messy, exhausting, delightful job for any in the world.
Because before I know it, these little ones will be all grown up. I’m hoping they’ll overlook the fact that my kitchen floor was rarely spotless, because their memories are full of laughter, and cuddles, and love.