It’s late. Me and my computer are spending some quality time together.
I get up to use the restroom for the – oh I lose track of the number of times. I pass a set of ten toes in the hallway. And a curly head. He’s sitting in the doorway reading by the light of the hall lamp. It’s way later than he should still be up.
But he’s wearing the puppy pajama pants and I can’t resist.
He’s delighted to accept the invitation to the big bed. Naturally his big brother overhears, wants to come too.
They slide in next to me. Kick, adjust, resettle all the blankets, the pillows, and the quilt. Hot bodies breathing next to me as I type. Sharing bits and pieces of their day. Holding them up for me to comment on as I’m working to recap my own. The new knight’s sword somehow made it into the bed too. Along with the snuffly breathing and the blocked noses. There’s music swelling from my computer and now also from my heart.
There is no space that is solely my own anymore.
It can suffocate. And some nights the tension spills out of my mouth in shrill frustration and out of my eyes, my nose and down my cheeks. But sometimes when that happens, like tonight, there’s a chubby hand waiting to catch it. To cup my face and pull it down to toddler eye level and whisper, “Don’t cwy, mama. It’s gonna be ok.”
Just like his father did a decade before we even dreamed the possibility of a son, let alone two.
They take my space, my life and energy and eat up all that I plan and dream and hope and fear. They metabolize it. And then they give it back to me. Palm up. Cupped for me to see.
And I kneel down and take it with both hands. And the music. Oh the music swells between these four tight walls and the limited space in this bed.
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Beautiful, as always. :)
I’m reading this post as my daughter is sleeping sideways in my bed. I just had to move her foot off my computer screen. At one point in the night, she actually reached over and grabbed my collar while pushing off my back with the balls of her feet at the same time. She grinds her teeth, so I hear that music all night long.
Yesterday was one of those days when I spilled many tears, and my prayer this morning was and is that God would help me to not respond in the flesh, to view these moments as precious gifts and to help me feel refreshed even when I feel dry and empty.
Great post!
Hang in there – we’ve all been there. You are normal and wonderful and a great mother!
This was a precious post… you always leave me in awe of motherhood. You have such a beautiful perspective! Love from South Africa!
Say hello to the Ha-di-das for me!
This is precious, Lisa-Jo! Just like those little chubby hands…I remember the ‘not even inside my own body’ part and am willing to do it again!, such an image of how all of the life goes to them, but I love how you talk about their giving it back…so beautiful…thank you:):):)
Thanks Abby. Only a mom knows how serene a spot the bathroom can be when she’s locked in there by herself! :)
This makes me want to start the “Bathroom Book Club” for mommies who go there to read and breath. :) I do the same!
this made my heart kick-start.
Oh I know how you feel, Lisa Jo! You just want your body to yourself again, but even after the baby is born there comes the nursing and there will always be someone climbing and pulling and tugging. I was just thinking the other night, as I was trying to sit with the boys and watch a DVD, that I can’t even do that without the boys climbing climbing climbing! But you know what? It only lasts but a few short years. I try not to complain (but sometimes it’s not easy). Someday we’ll be aching to give ourselves to them, to offer a leg to hang on and a hand to grab.
Oh Jenny – I know how you feel. While I would love to have personal space back at times, I know that it will come all too soon, and then I will want my monkeys back! I’m learning to enjoy every moment of cuddles and playing together while they still want to do both.
So beautiful!
ooooo I love this one, Lisa-Jo!
You make the ache and beauty of life, bearing life, caring for life, raising life something mysterious and lovely…..
Saying a prayer for you and sending a massive hug today!
And through their eyes, we see how much He Loves. May these last few weeks be filled with such Peace and Joy and Rest that the hard things fall away, barely noticed.
Oh Amen and yes and thank you and please, Lord. :)
I read this post the first time at 1 AM as I sat up with a teething, fussy Silas. It’s too true. My bed almost always has a small person in it, separating my husband and myself. When I sit in my chair nursing Silas, inevitably my daughter & 2yo son come to sit on either side of me. Yesterday I had a list of to-dos a mile long, and instead I found myself sitting on the couch with all four kids piled around me, because they all decided they’re going to miss me when I go away for 2 nights this weekend. And I loved it. I get frustrated, I get smothered, I get impatient, but I also have those moments of clarity that remind me…This. Will. Not. Last. So I pull them all closer and thank God that they’re there.
“I get frustrated, I get smothered, I get impatient, but I also have those moments of clarity that remind me…This. Will. Not. Last.”
Yes, indeed. Wise words for the frantic moments.
I cannot explain how this post transported me to another time. Exquisite, nothing less.