We talked about Sundays a little while back and what they so often feel like in our home. Here's a look at how they run.
Typically, Joshua gets showered and doles out breakfast to everyone so that I can shower in peace.
This increases the sacredness of the day, you know. The peaceful shower.
Those Sunday morning routines mostly involve me in my room all morning. Our bedroom door practically swings both ways as children come in to seek approval or assistance with their clothing or hair.
Thomas has this crazy shag thing going with his hair and it needs me and a brush and a hairdryer to make it lay down properly after he showers. Daniel just wants to have his hair brushed and brushed and brushed.
Then there are my sweet girls and their insane senses of fashion. Boots with smocked dresses...what? No. And every single one of them needs me to attention her hair in some way or another, so it is frequent that I wind up only half dressed while trying to get everyone to the point where they can deal with their own little selves.
I was drying my hair the other morning wearing only my skirt and a camisole and praising the Lord that warmth had found the Southlands. Sarah Grace came in to get assistance with her earrings and waited patiently for me to finish up the last few seconds with the hair dryer. As I clicked it off and unplugged it to put it away, she tilted her head thoughtfully to one side.
"Mama, is that skirt tight on you?"
I grinned as I swished it around on my waist and commented that it was actually a bit big. I was still patting myself on the back for having dropped another nearly-whole size when she dropped a bomb that nearly sunk me.
"Well, your belly looks fat in that skirt."
It took effort to keep my mouth shut and help her with her earrings. I shooed her out of the room and went straight back to the mirror to peer at myself from all angles. We won't speak of how badly I just wanted to holler at her that I'd joyfully earned my squishy belly by the business of sacredly housing her and her precious siblings. We won't rehash the way tears sprang up for just a moment, but it was a real moment. We won't go over again the ridiculous vanity of it all.
But for all us Mama's who have had squishy belly moments with our children, or even without them, here's a story that kind of goes along with my small tale here today. Cherish it, Mama. These are the lines of a story.