Many moons ago, I lived in a little apartment. Just me and three cats (yes, three. Believe me, I still wonder how I did it) in our teensy apartment. I loved that season of my life. It was marked by peaceful evenings and independence. My music, my timetable, my menu. For a short period of time, life seemed all about me.
The good Lord knew I couldn't handle much of that before I became unbearable. Soon my beloved proposed, and a short four months later, we were married. Ten months after that, we were parents, and the noise has steadily grown in it's consistency over the past five years.
This period of my life is marked by screeches, laughter, 'Mommy, can I', battery operated toys, makeshift drums, all manner of thumps and thuds, 'Mommy, I need', arguing kids, wailing, blowing raspberries, 'Mommy, will you', kiddie music, a more or less regulated routine, and easy foods.
If somebody had told me six years ago how wonderful this all is, I woulda suggested to them that perhaps a head examination should me in their very near future. If they had even hinted at how okay I would be with life being all about family and much, much, much less about me, I might have howled in laughter.
As it stands, I'll take the sweet sound of little hands slapping on the floor as a baby crawls to me, the infectiousness of a laughing little boy, the persistent 'Mommy?'...'Mommy?'.....'Mommy?'.....'I love you.' of my oldest daughter, and the mischievous giggle of our Sunshine child. And I will relish the sound of that roomful of children breathing deeply and sighing in their sleep.
Because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that they are replenishing their little batteries for tomorrow.
1 comment:
it really is wonderful, isn't it?
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