Yesterday I was tired of being touched. I was tired of all the noise: songs, shrieks, whines, cries, shouts. I did not want to change anyone, help anyone go potty, help anyone wash their hands. I did not want to give anyone a drink or snack. I did not want to hold or hug or snuggle. I did not want to read a book or tickle or build a tower. I did not want to figure out what my son wanted or talk things through with my daughter.
I wanted quiet. I wanted to be by myself. I wanted nap time.
But instead what I got was L and Ben bum rushing me, jumping onto my lap, wrapping themselves around me, and holding on tight. L began singing a made up song about how I was the best mom ever and she loved me very much. Ben smiled and giggled and put his head on my shoulder.
I was saved by my kids and instantly back in love with my vocation.
They have such a way of doing that, don't they? Driving you crazier than you ever thought possible only to wind up making you fall even more deeply in love with them. Tricky! :)ReplyDelete
In Anne of Green Gables, she calls those "Jonah Days". It stinks when they come along, but thankfully there are those things that pull us out of them.ReplyDelete
It's true, I always say my kids are getting me to Heaven - even though I'm supposed to be getting them there...ReplyDelete
Yes yes yes.. I was just telling someone the same thing yesterday. Maddening, infuriating, but sometimes just when you're ready to explode, they just make you rub your eyes in disbelief at how amazingly lovely they are.ReplyDelete