Usually life with my one-year-old and four-year-old is amazing. Days filled with giggles, songs, and great memories. But some days, well, it isn’t sunshine, flowers, and a happy tune. Yesterday was one of those days.
Things got broken; there were tears. Many of them. Two kids in unison crying at one point. Food spilled in the car. Dog shedding EVERYWHERE. Complaints about food. Nobody slept during naptime. Meltdown, meltdown, temper tantrum . . .
It was one of those kinds of days. I thought to myself, I’m so close to getting them down to bed. I started daydreaming about the cup of tea I would have while eating cookies and chocolate—the snacks I told them throughout the day they couldn’t have because they’re bad for their bodies while handing them a carrot or an apple. I started dreaming of my Netflix queue as I heated up Pemberley’s bottle for bed.
As I carried her up to bed, thoughts of freedom danced in my head. This baby was toast. Done, done, done. I decided to sort of dance with her as I held her tight singing our song, Amazing Grace. To my surprise, she sang with me. She peered into my eyes and sang. Completely off key—well, truth be told, so was I. She had no words, can’t really talk yet. She doesn’t know how to hum. But she sang. It was beautiful and she was proud. She knew it was magical and special. I looked at her and was in awe of the bond, the beauty of the moment we shared. It was a moment I wanted to bottle up and sell as the most beautiful perfume called “Love” or “Mother’s Heart,” or even better, “Pemberley.”
I then got Hayden who was equally done. It took him what seemed like an eternity to get his pajamas on. Picking which story we would read was like a mathematical equation. Holy moly. But then I asked him who he wanted to pray for tonight. He said Nanna. He then pressed his palms together, pointed up to heaven. He bowed his head, shut his eyes, and prayed the most amazing, thoughtful, deep, faithful prayer ever. It brought tears of pride to my eyes. This little boy has grown leaps and bounds in his faith.
Suddenly the craziness of the day melted away into a faraway distant land called “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff,” and all that remained was these beautiful moments I had with my greatest treasures. Being a mom is a downright tough job. It can suck you dry. But then you get the golden nuggets and suddenly your cup runneth over. There is no other job in the world like it, and I’m so glad it’s my job. I love being a mom. More specifically, I love being Hayden and Pemberley’s mom. Happy late Mother’s Day, everyone!