Life with Littles

This spring semester Angie has been teaching a course on the teaching of writing.  As part of the course the participants created many projects - one was a piece of writing that they would submit for an anthology.  I too was writing and my goal was to not write about my common topics, the boys and Greg.  So ,I set off and I wrote about many thing this semester that were not boys or Greg.  But when it came down to publish a piece I came back to my common familiar topic.  And so here is the piece I submitted about this season of life with these two little boys.  With David graduating from preschool and with just celebrating 6 years of being a mom I thought I would publish it here too - their blog where their lives are documented. 

Life with Littles

Giggles and squeals are heard here daily.  Toys litter the floor of every room.  There are stacks of children’s books in every corner.

The bathtub always has a scattering of bath toys and books.  Hooded towels line the hooks on the wall.

A bag travels with us every time we leave the house.  It contains extra clothes, water cups, diapers, wipes, sanitizer, and snacks - all which need to be restocked with every trip taken.

The car is full with car seats and strollers.  There are trucks for the park always ready for an impromptu stop.  There are rock collections, sticks that are now swords, and piles of dirt strown about.  There is a mess, always, in this life.

But, this life is one, that in all of the mess there is love.  Love of cars, trains, trucks, sticks.  But also unconditional love.  There are plenty of kisses blown and hugs received.  There are “I love you’s” spoken and smiles given.  Grace happens here daily.  And I ask, “How did this happen - the calm in the chaos?”

It is a choice.  It is a choice to leave the mess for the front row seat of playtime.  To hear the magic in a two year olds thinking.  To read the written words of a five year old.  If there is too much busy in the mess than we lose the beauty of this season.

It has recently been a choice to let the laundry sit unfolded, the bathroom stay scattered, to just overlook the mess.  Instead, I am pushing little boys in swings and hearing them chatter back and forth.  I am running races down the sidewalk and riding bikes around the block.  I am painting the driveway with two sets of messy hands.  I am making Play-Dough pizzas.

I wonder if these boys have helped me find my purpose, to honor their work in play.  To actually see and hear the rigor in their work as we play together and as I observe their play -  I had to slow down.  It is an honor to sit alongside and watch the magic of children in pure joy and happiness.

Sitting still to hear these two talk with each other about life as a preschooler seems simple.  But it isn’t and I do this now with more intention.  I am not ready for this season to end.  And soon it will.

Next year one will be a kindergartener.  The other will begin preschool.  Soon friends will hold more weight than Mama.  Joy will come in places to go rather than play time at home.  Rocking these boys to sleep will be traded with falling asleep alone.  Bath time will be traded for quick showers.  And story time will be traded by independent reading, we hope.

These are the sweet days - the ones where Mama's kisses can make any hurt go away.  A hug can heal hurt feelings.  It is a privilege to watch the bond of brothers grow during the years in which they are young.

To have two little lives observing the world through such innocence - it is a perspective I cherish.  Listening to these little boys laugh and giggle, tell jokes, and build each other up - listening to their conversations and even their arguments… there is nothing better than witnessing their imaginations and their love.

To be their Mama is a true gift.  It is a gift that did not come easily and one that is never taken for granted.  And that is why I choose to be still in the chaos.  To go along on the adventure.  To learn from their little voices.  And to embrace the mess.

Being the first person they want in the morning and the last one they want at night - it is a privilege to be so loved.