measuring my days
My mothering days can be measured in a variety of ways. I'm learning that it's usually best not to measure them by the number of times I've re-warmed my coffee in any given morning. Nor by how many socks come through the laundry without matches, nor by how many microscopic pieces of Playmobil are scattered all over the carpet, nor by the number of bottles sitting around with just one ounce of milk left in them.
I could measure my days by those standards, but it would leave me feeling unfulfilled, unproductive, and full of self-pity. And these days are far from pity-worthy.
The new year has been so good for me. I needed a fresh start, and I'm always so thankful for one in the middle of any given winter. I'm especially thankful this year because after Elijah was born in August, I felt like we never quite got back into routine. January 1 was perfect timing for us to start over with a solid morning routine and surprisingly, when I follow my own set schedule, I do have time to fit in everything I want to do with my days.
These days are precious. This very year, in August, I will be sending my firstborn off to kindergarten. What we do with these days matters, because they're fleeting.
So, I'll measure my days by the number of giggles at the lunch table (even though it would be great if they would spend more time eating and less time chatting). I'll measure them by the smiles that fill up and overflow off of Elijah's face any time someone even looks in his general direction. I'll measure them by Ivory's enthusiasm for reading lessons and Titus's delight over taking apart his airplane and putting it back together. I'll measure them by her little fingers dancing up and down the white and black keys, playing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" in every octave. I'll measure them by the sweet little sketches that come off of his pencil because he's spent so many Sunday afternoons sitting with grandpa, learning to draw tractors and wagons and such like. I'll measure them by the rare moments in the chair where I can just sit and thank God for His many gifts.
I could measure my days by those standards, but it would leave me feeling unfulfilled, unproductive, and full of self-pity. And these days are far from pity-worthy.
The new year has been so good for me. I needed a fresh start, and I'm always so thankful for one in the middle of any given winter. I'm especially thankful this year because after Elijah was born in August, I felt like we never quite got back into routine. January 1 was perfect timing for us to start over with a solid morning routine and surprisingly, when I follow my own set schedule, I do have time to fit in everything I want to do with my days.
These days are precious. This very year, in August, I will be sending my firstborn off to kindergarten. What we do with these days matters, because they're fleeting.
So, I'll measure my days by the number of giggles at the lunch table (even though it would be great if they would spend more time eating and less time chatting). I'll measure them by the smiles that fill up and overflow off of Elijah's face any time someone even looks in his general direction. I'll measure them by Ivory's enthusiasm for reading lessons and Titus's delight over taking apart his airplane and putting it back together. I'll measure them by her little fingers dancing up and down the white and black keys, playing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" in every octave. I'll measure them by the sweet little sketches that come off of his pencil because he's spent so many Sunday afternoons sitting with grandpa, learning to draw tractors and wagons and such like. I'll measure them by the rare moments in the chair where I can just sit and thank God for His many gifts.
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