Life is made up of the very little things.
The board books.
The sidewalk chalk.
The swaddling of a squishy little baby body.
The wrestling with Daddy.
The tender diaper changes.
The meals we serve.
I tend to get so caught up in what I’m not accomplishing.
My clean laundry lays strewn across my bedroom floor. My bed is not made. My kitchen is full of used dishes. My living room is covered in a little boy’s toys. My bathrooms have a layer of dust on the counters and hairs on the floors. There’s a slight ring around my tub and the trash could use some emptying.
If I focus on that alone, I am overwhelmed by the feeling of incompetence, inability – frustration. I wonder why I ever thought I could handle mothering in the first place. I wonder if I will ever have clean clothes hanging in my closet again.
In the eyes of the world – I am a failure. I don’t have it all together. I cannot keep up.
In the eyes of my children, my husband, my God – I am doing a great work. I am walking a difficult but honorable path.
Life is made up of
goofy dances in the living room
walks to see the “Neigh” and the”Maa!”
laughter (not stress)
family prayer time
naps with my baby
watching my boys smile at each other
and early morning chats over coffee with my husband.
Life is so much more than clean bathrooms.