The Dichotomy
I hear the sound of an opening door and the pitter patter of steps toward ours. I internally sigh, wondering if the sun is even out on the day we can actually sleep past its rising, as our daughter shoves herself into our room, excitedly rambling about pancakes and some crazy story involving a safari animal.
I somehow step on old oatmeal left on the floor, but not left for too long because it’s still slimy enough to stubbornly attach itself to the bottom of my foot (and make me feel a little crazy). I hear screams down the hall about some car and “mine twactor, miiiiiine” right as I was delving into the growing pile of dirty dishes for the third attempt today.
I see the duck face – from my TWO year old boy- as he adamantly makes his stance known alongside the furrowed brow of my four year old as they refuse yet another meal I worked on for an hour, thinking surely they would like this one.
This is everything I prayed for, right? Yet here I am mixed with so many conflicting emotions over this motherhood thing I wanted with every ounce of my being. But now I’m in the trenches of the everyday and I just want a minute just to pee by myself, please. Guilt floods my heart for feeling anything but complete gratitude over these two crazy little gifts clinging to my legs.
***
You can feel one without neglecting the other. Simultaneously tangled in a beautifully messy togetherness that you can’t unwrap. The good and the bad. The frustrating and the precious. The sweet and the sour. The ‘test your patience limits to their very ends’ and the ‘sit and stare in wonder that the Lord allowed these tiny humans to be yours.’
So I take a deep breath, step back, and I look again. Not ignoring all the hard, but maybe asking the Father for a new light to shed on my heart that’s struggling to see past nap time.
I then see her blonde wisps of curls spilling over her face and her tummy poking through her almost-too-tight 4T pajamas standing at my pillow, reminding me she is growing all too quickly and I won’t have these early morning wake ups for forever.
I see her little brother shoveling oatmeal into his mouth (and onto the floor- remember my foot?), so proud to be doing it by himself, and now he is the one encouraging the older to eat. I see their arms wrapped around each other’s necks after they apologize from caring more about the tractor than each other. I stop and think about the little victories I witness each day, even as it seems we take three steps back through it all.
I see and hear their precious toddler giggles in response to their daddy and I making faces back at them, and we coax them with cornbread to take just one more bite of the meal I prepared. They end up liking the food, and they slowly start to eat, telling us outlandish stories in silly voices while we actually stop long enough to listen.
And I start allowing myself to rejoice in that strange but joyful dichotomy. The seemingly impossible mingled with the imperfectly beautiful.
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4 Comments
דירות דיסקרטיות בתל אביב
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דירות דיסקרטיות ברמת גן
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נערות ליווי
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