Many years from now, when I look back on “the busy years”, I will smile. I will remember the way it felt to hold my babies in my lap. The way they hug me tight and say “I love you Momma”. I will remember the way they play together, laugh, and attempt to high 5 (they miss almost every time). I’ll recall our bedtime routine – reading books with Daddy and our song I sing. The first things to flood my memories will be the good times. These are the moments I’ll take with me.
When I look back at the first year with both my boys, I remember holding them and watching them fall asleep while I nursed them. I loved that feeling. The peacefulness of the moment. I know I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and unsure of myself, but I don’t remember how that felt. I look back at a fact not a feeling. However, when I think back on the beautiful moments – I feel them, like a euphoric memory rush. I guess that’s how we end up with multiple children.
I’m in the thick of it right now, and I don’t want to take it for granted. I will (try) never to complain about how hard this is. There are couples who would give anything for a moment in my shoes but can’t. I remind myself of that whenever I feel like I’m at the end of my rope. This week was rough. Will woke up mad a couple mornings and carried that vibe for our first few hours (not unusual), Charlie split his chin open – it confirmed my calling was not in the medical field, Brian and I fought over the best way to discipline Charlie’s smart mouth, and Will learned to climb out of his crib – he’s sleeping on the floor right now. All that and I still firmly believe these are the best years of our lives. Because, forty year from now, I’ll barely to able to recall how Charlie got that scar on his chin, and I’ll remember my husband loved our children so much that he fought with me on the best way to raise them.
The good always outweighs the bad with family if you take the time to nurture it. I will take with me all the firsts, the hugs & kisses, the way Brian looks at his boys, and nights the boys fall sleep early and I’m alone with my husband, the sports, the concerts, the laughter, the pride, and the love. These are the things I will think of and I will miss “the busy years”. Of course I will remember how difficult it was, but only when bringing it up to one of my boys when my grandchild is giving them the same kind of trouble.
