In a week where the funniest thing that happened (though not funny at the time) was Pierce reverting to his old ways of losing half his feeding at an inopportune moment, resulting in curdled I-don’t-want-to-know-what landing squarely on my face, things have been pretty tense around here.
Right about now, that statement about the mother setting the temperature of the home nags at my brain.
Not enough sleep, a baby boy who has embraced his freedom and ability to crawl, not on his belly, but up on all fours – resulting in a torn-apart house that’s about to do me in, laundry coming out of my ears, and too much to do and not enough time is all weighing down.
And yet. Yesterday, when a call came in that changed the course of my afternoon, I was reminded, in no small detail, that my life is pretty wonderful. That, despite the messy house and struggles to get three children schooled each day, what I do, this privilege I have to stay home and raise these six healthy children God’s given me… I’m thankful.
The spit up on my face I could have done without. I thought we were past that. But everything else… I’ll take it, smile, pick up the toys once more, and be glad that I have this opportunity. Time goes so fast, it’ll be gone before I know it.