To Walk In Their Shoes

I am coming off of a four day stint of babysitting with Tara and JD's little ones.  Mommy and Daddy exchanged Christmas gifts by giving themselves a trip to Las Vegas with friends. 

When raising my three children, who were each separated by two years, I know that I seldom got a full nights sleep, often carried someone on my hip while cooking dinner with someone else holding on to my ankle.  I know that I spent my days cooking meals, cleaning up after meals, then cleaning bodies after they ate the meals and then cleaning clothes before I started cooking the next meal.  

I know that the chaos before dinner was every one's least favorite time of the day and the lull after bath time was one of my favorites.  That was when my children would allow me to rub their backs, hold them close and hum a tune in their clean, baby-lotion scented ears.

Even though I did what my children are now doing, there is no better way to appreciate the demands of their parenting than stepping for a moment into their shoes.  

Little Tornado is busy most of the time, running from room to room, singing songs, pushing toy cars, throwing balls, climbing stairs, whacking the punching bag and faking some of the best full body falls I have ever seen.  

Expending energy at such a constant rate demands a tremendous amount of fuel.  So every thirty minutes or so Tornado would grab my finger and lead me to a particular kitchen cupboard chanting, "knack, Knack, knack," as we went.  His favorite snack was miniature blueberry muffins, but he also ate a pound of grapes, cherry tomatoes and diced peaches. He surprised me by folding his hands and praying before he ate.  It was very sweet and not ever fully captured by my camera. 

He-man helped out by making lunch one day.  He opened a can of Ravioli and laid a plate full before Tornado.  I was able to pull Tornado's shirt off before he grabbed a handful of tomato laden pasta, but I could do nothing to save the pants or the carpet below.  

Tornado LOVED his lunch that day and ate every last bite.  Oh those men know what makes their bellies happy, don't they?

There was nothing I could do short of taking Tornado for a spin in the washing machine, other than a quick dip in the kitchen sink.  I think this may have been his first sink bath as a toddler, because he wasn't sure what to do when I stripped off his pants and hosted him upwards, encouraging him to go ahead and sit down in the sink while warm tap water sprinkled his naked toes.

After his initial surprise, he took to a sink bath like brown sugar on oatmeal.  Yummy, yummy fun!

A few faint ravioli stains marked the tender skin of his chest, but after a second-sink-filled-soak (or should I say, splash) the natural rose of his cheeks returned and he was in one room for almost twenty minutes.

Now that made my heart happy!!

Little Miss Boo, who usually casts a bright light on any gathering....

was experiencing a runny nose and the slight remains of a double ear infection.  She just wasn't her ultra-shiny self.  Not only did she recently discover her tongue for flaunting, I think it hung from her mouth as she opened it to breathe, 'cause her sweet little nose bud was all stuffed up.

I consider my son and daughter-in-law to be great parents. But after spending four days inside their home, I consider myself recipient too of their daily commitment to be the best parents they can be, in spite of little sleep or piles of laundry, or sick babies, or yard work or a thousand other demands that could steer them away from their intent.

I know they get tired and loose their cools from time to time.  But it is evident that the priority of their lives is doing what ever it takes to give their children joy, peace, love, patience kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control.

I left their house yesterday afternoon, tired from the demand of activity, but filled with sweet appreciation for being allowed to participate in it.  There are many people in my shoes who don't even talk to their adult children, let alone get to rock and sing and kiss their grandchildren good night.

51.  I am grateful for being included.


I hope your Monday takes you away from your norm.  I hope you feel (or felt) enlivened by it.  I hope you get to spend time with the love that your love created.

Yaya