musings on a Friday morning

Parenting - and parenting well - is tough stuff.

Often it's truly enjoyable watching my boys grow up and change, but there are moments... moments when Judah is choosing to disobey because he knows I'm "trapped" under a nursing baby. Moments when I know Benjamin has had a good, full feeding, and yet he's acting frantic and unsatisfied. Moments when all I'm trying to do is grab a bite to eat and both children are desperately trying to get me to give them some one-on-one attention. Moments when I manage to get the stroller down our treacherous steps on my own and get a 31 pound toddler strapped in while wearing a baby, and then said baby absolutely refuses to be satisfied in the carrier.

Then there are the golden moments - like when Judah practically ASKS for a nap, Ben is sleeping in his bouncer, and I'm able to make supper AND dessert for when Joey gets home from work. Or when Judah just can't help but kiss Benjamin's fuzzy head - and keep kissing it and kissing it and kissing it. Or when Benjamin is eating well and I'm happily watching my husby chase Judah around, the latter filling the air with ecstatic giggles.

I have to keep in mind that this season of life is short, although sometimes it feels like a moment can last a lifetime. My toddler is simply learning how to relate to and function independently in a very big world. And breastfeeding, although painful and tedious at this point, will not last long. In the not so distant future I will wonder how my baby boy ever fit into my arms like he does now. Pretty soon it will be winter, the beautiful season of fall will have been too short, and we'll be bundling up the littles to play in the snow on Christmas day.

Joey and I took a detour to the park on one of our "necessity trips" into town. There was a lady there who had a five and seven year old (the five-year-old was a very, VERY friendly little girl), and she seemed anything BUT happy to be where she was. She barked at her son. She focused her attention on her cell phone. She didn't even crack a smile. She didn't even care that her daughter was sharing waaaaaaaay too much information with complete strangers. (Thankfully, it was my husband (who was not encouraging the conversation) and not some creep-o). It seemed like, somewhere along the way, she had taken a wrong-turn in life  and loathed where she had ended up.

I don't want to be the mom in the park that barks at her children, that refuses to see the beauty in the moment, in her children. I want to smile more than I frown, laugh more than I lash out. I want to rely on God's providing hand more than I run on my own feeble strength.

Parenting is, indeed, tough stuff, but, by God's grace, we'll come through the refiner's fire as pure gold.