I sit here with tender tears tonight. Listening to LullabiesforGetty and thinking about my blessings and remembering that some parents are in situations that leave them brokenhearted. I complained today for the busyness in my house - I got interrupted when I was on the phone, while I tried to clean up the meal, while I tried to feed the baby, when I just wanted to check facebook, when I was in the shower... I just wished I didn't have to help anyone and that no one was talking to me for a moment. I wanted to have time for some things that I enjoy. Now I feel ashamed that I would complain. I am embarrassed that there are many who would wish to be in my position. I wonder how I could think that having time to myself would make me more joyful than being in the moments I was in.
My kids were so thankful I made them their favorite breakfast. We got busy in the garden. Kellen was so thrilled that he has his own designated box to plant and take care of. When they weren't helping me, there was happy chatter in the sandbox and from the swings.When it was time to water the newly planted seeds and they requested swimsuits for a waterfight, the "yes" answer brought on incredibly excited, happy squeals and a flurry of activity. I washed my dirty hands and picked up my camera. I had a hard time capturing pictures of my active and healthy children while they played with gusto.We trekked to the library with Kellen on his new big bike, Lanelle pedalling her trike (a brand new skill for her), and a completely happy and alert Neve in the stroller. They were over the moon about making the "super best banana boat" snack.
Looking back at the moments of the day, I realize I took them for granted. Sure, I enjoyed them. I was happy to be in the garden. I laughed lots with the kids during the water fight. But tonight while I think of what others are facing, I realize how very extraordinary it is to be so blessed. I want to feel more than just thankfulness for their kisses and hugs, for their healthy bodies and minds, and for being their mom. I want it to be enough. I don't want to find myself grouchy about folding another load of laundry. I don't want to daydream about having a day by myself. I don't want to think about what I will do when they are grown up. I want to remember that having a day with them - even with all the interruptions, messes, and frustrations - is the perfect place and the only place I would want to be.